You say you want real love.
But when it shows up—
gentle, curious, ready—
do you tense up,
scan for the catch,
start performing?
Do you shrink, just enough to be safe,
or shine just enough to stay impressive?
This isn't shame.
It's a reflex.
It's what happens when you've lived in survival so long,
you might just mistake love for danger.
But beloved,
what if love isn't a test or deed you proof, performance, or polish?
What if it's waiting for you to fix yourself first, if it just wants to curl up beside you—
in your hoodie,
with your third date later,
and your half-done healing—
and stay?
You've been the giver long enough.
The space-holder. The translator. The fierce one.
And now, it's your turn.
To let someone walk toward you
and not back away.
To let someone see you
and not deflect.
To let the compliment land.
Let the kindness linger.
Let the softness in.
You don't have to collapse.
You don't have to disappear.
You don't have to be perfect.
You just have to stay open long enough
to feel it.
Let yourself be loved.
For real this time.
