almost love

We don’t fall in love anymore. We hover. Tiptoe on the surface like the water’s too cold, like the fire’s too hot, like we know better now. You say, “I’ve been burned before.” And I nod, pretend I didn’t bring the matches. We laugh at the idea of forever like it’s a fairy tale they told us before taxes and therapy. We’re experts in almosts. Almost told you how I felt. Almost stayed the night. Almost believed this could be real if we weren’t so damn scared of real. We’ve got trauma dressed like timing, insecurities wearing confidence like cologne. We ghost before it gets good, pull back when it gets close. You say, “I’m just not ready.” But you are You’re just not ready to lose. And love… Love feels like risk. Like letting go of the exit door. Love like it’s borrowed. Touch like a maybe. Stay like a storm’s coming. Always one foot out, just in case the past comes knocking. But I’m tired. Tired of almosts. Of being half-held, half-heard, half-loved. If you can’t dive, don’t dip. If you won’t stay, don’t start. Because I’m not a pit stop on your way to figuring it out. I want a love that doesn’t flinch. That doesn’t whisper but shouts. That doesn't run peshy❤️‍🩹