I'm sorry for the way I gave it to you.

I was afraid.

Not of you.

Of how deeply the roots go.

I emptied my pockets on your doorstep.

Every quiet thing I never named,

spilled into one breath.

That wasn't honesty.

That was fear

wearing truth's face.

You are the room I feel safe enough

to be wrecked in.

I forgot that safety

doesn't ask you to hold the wreckage.

I miss you.

Not your voice in my phone.

You.

I want to sit beside you in the quiet.

Not needing anything.

Just your hand near mine.

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