No More Explaining
No More Explaining I’m tired of explaining how much I want you here, tired of painting the picture of us, while you keep the brush idle. I won’t wait at the door for a knock that may never come, or hold my breath for a wish you won’t speak. If you wanted me, I’d already know. If I was your choice, I wouldn’t have to ask. So I’m stepping back, not because I love you less— but because I’ve finally learned to love myself more