Dear you,

Can I admit that I love you?
Though, it will cause laughter
and well-meaning reproach?

Can I admit that I love you?
Even knowing you have faults, failings, and endless human qualities? A mouth you have learned to hold still where once you would have spoken. The critical aspects of you. The strength it has taken to learn tact and diplomacy around those you don’t agree with. Becoming known for that diplomacy despite your inner dialog truths.

See, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not nieve to the realities.
I know all about life and struggle. The endless complexities of being human.
I know exactly who I am and what faults exist within me,
which is why, I feel I can allow myself to love you. All the way through. No holds barred, no truths held back. I live in joy and long to share what I have learned.

Can I admit that I love you?
Not for what is seen by the eye or felt in the loins, but known deep down where the essence of me lives. The understanding of who you are and what you care about. The strange impulse to connect with you because I somehow know and recognise large portions of your soul that exist in silence. The truth of you. How others worship your looks, the very last thing you even care about? The way you strive, every single day, to develop a legacy of your existence. The tasks you set yourself as a means of serving the world with a tangible evidence of your love and devotion.

I care less about the parameters of loving you. The definition of what we should or shouldn’t be, and more about the stories I want to share. The ones I want to hear. The comfort I wish to provide.
I am very good at loving people. I know the ones I love when I see them.

And I see you.

Is it ok to admit that I love you?

Because, I do.
I love you.

Though, admitting so is foolish. Not admitting it is worse.


Published by Bexley Benton. (Pen name)

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog.

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