breecoded.org

I love in halves.

They see parts of me; I hold the rest back.

I want them to know all of it, but I’m not sure I even know all of it myself.

Sometimes closeness feels like falling, sometimes like disappearing.

I can’t tell which it is until it’s gone.

And so I stop mid-word.

Mid-embrace.

Mid-heartbeat.

Because maybe this is the only way to survive myself.