Accident

"I think we found it by accident. The life I hoped for exists. I choose to hold on."

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"Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;
Where little fears grow great, great love grows there."
— William Shakespeare

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I think we found it by accident.
The life I hoped for exists.
I choose to hold on.

The world would probably call us promising.
A beautiful beginning.
They do not see the fear beneath our tongues.
The imagined endings.
The old grief dressing itself up as intuition.

How easy it is
to love a mirage of someone.
How easy it is
to let longing invent answers
before honesty has the chance to speak.

Come closer.

Not to the dream of me,
with me.
Open your eyes
just for today.

Look into mine,
the truths I keep hiding
beneath pretty language and devotion.

See my bruises.
The terror of being fully witnessed
and remaining.
An animal clawing at the lids,
begging to be held.

Choose me
with all the unpoetic contradictions intact.
I already carry your soul in mine.

I do not think love is meant to be quiet.
I follow the sound of you.
My room has instinctively made space for you.
Cutting off the fear growing vines around my ankles.

Don’t let me demand anything of you,
I am warm enough to rest your tired hands beside.
I wanted to ask you everything.
Place every frightened thing
gently into your hands
and watch whether you stayed.

Instead,
I will fantasize,
let you find your way
to our reality.
A beautiful stability.

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I will not love you quietly, Mitchel. I will scream it off rooftops. I am not afraid to name you anymore. Or to show you I love you more than life itself. All I can hope for is that you will one day do the same, more openly. I hope you can forgive me for that.