He is not a mystery to solve, a puzzle to crack, a book to read and analyze.
No, he does not care to be tall, dark, mysterious;
he is disinterested in the performance of it all, in unanswered questions,
and I never have to wonder.
He is transparency and crystal clear sound waves, reassurance, a shared page.
He wants to be understood like I do—mutually, entirely,
though he rarely needs to explain.
He knows, desires, the security of comfortable familiarity, leans into the commitment,
leans into me, and I am sure now more than ever,
it was always supposed to be this easy.
About the Creator
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (3)
Yes, it is. A beautiful love poem, love how you created that freedom tone to it, like it's light and free. Excellent writing.
I love the straightforward easiness of this writing. It’s refreshing!
Woah! This poem is like a cozy hug—love that’s easy, mutual, and just feels right. So simple, so real, so good! 😊