i think one of the most intimate things in the world is being gentle with someone who's used to being the strong one. someone everyone else leans on, who they look for for guidance and comfort..who has their shoulders squared and their chin up. hands steady.
and then..it's just us.
and she's laying there with her head in my lap, finally letting herself be heavy..letting herself rest. and i'm carding my fingers through her hair, slow and careful, feeling her melt a bit more every time i do.
watching the way she takes my wrist, turning it over just to look at it. my eyes following as she traces the lines of my tattoos with her fingertips like she's reading something deeper. not rushed. just curious, soft.
i want every version of her, but especially the one no one else gets. sleepy, and needy. the one that closes her eyes while i trace mindless patterns on her arms. the version that reaches for my hand quietly, without asking.
who feels like she can slow down for once. there's never a rush with me, i'd happily wait forever for her to collect the thoughts that usually end up unspoken. i want to hear every word, it's important. she's important..even when she's not in control.
i want to be the place she puts down all the weight she's been carrying. to know she doesn't have to be strong, and she'll be worthy of softness anyway.
