Sometimes I don’t want to be strong.

  Not quietly strong.

  Not survive-it strong.

  Just… not strong at all.

  Sometimes I want to be small enough

  that the world stops expecting things from me.

  I want somewhere soft to land.

  Somewhere that doesn’t ask questions

  when my voice goes quiet.

  Somewhere I don’t have to explain

  why I’m tired.

  I want to be held

  without earning it.

  Without proving I deserve rest.

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  I want someone who knows

  that when I get quiet,

  I’m not distant—

  I’m reaching.

  I want to be looked after

  without being controlled.

  Protected

  without being owned.

  I want to feel safe enough

  to let my guard slip

  and not have to snap it back on

  ten minutes later.

  I want gentleness that stays.

  Patience that doesn’t get bored with me.

  A presence that doesn’t disappear

  when I need too much.

  I don’t want to be impressive.

  I don’t want to be capable.

  I just want to be okay

  for a little while.

  And if I curl into someone’s space,

  it’s not because I can’t stand alone—

  it’s because I’m tired of always having to.

  Sometimes I don’t want power.

  I want peace.

  I want to be somewhere

  I don’t have to brace.