love in a safe space
the people around you,
know only a part of who you are.
perhaps it is the most beautiful side,
the one you have spent years
polishing and perfecting,
to present your life for consumption
as the most enviable.
perhaps it is the most honest side,
the one after you have gone to bed,
after the lights are out,
and conversation unspools,
weaving tangled webs of trust.
perhaps it is the most ugly side,
the one that you wish you did not have.
but it rears its head,
with politically incorrect thoughts
and emotionally incorrect decisions.
perhaps it is the most vulnerable side,
the one you would rather tuck away
into the comfort of obscurity,
the fears you never even acknowledged
materialising as words.
perhaps it is none of them,
perhaps it is all of them,
but loving feels like hedging your bets.
surely one person can never be
trusted with all of you?
until you meet people that
walk in and sit down.
expect nothing of you,
so you offer everything.
safe spaces are just two ears
that come with the promise
of understanding.
being loved by someone that
will take all versions of you
and cherish them
is the only kind of love that matters.
and once you have been loved
this way,
so heartbreakingly wholly,
you must settle for nothing less.