You Don’t Get to Swallow Your Secrets

Becuase every time when he looks at me—really looks—I don't feel like a woman with mask. I feel like he reads the parts of me I keep hidden in depth only he had access to.

I don't want flowers from him.I want that look which reminds me 'who truly am I apart from the outside look', where he leaves a silence assurance saying "This feels like you..", "I know you, I see you..."I want the silence between his sentences. The breath he takes before saying my name. The way he only ever softens when the world's not watching.

And sometimes…When I'm alone, and I can't say out loud:

That maybe I just want to be myself and wants him to know the real me, so I act reckless. mad even because...

I want him in the mess of it.I want him to stay and know—even after he dislikes the parts of me that I didn't know..I see he cares...