To be loved is to be seen
to be loved
is not to be admired
not to be fixed
not to be asked for less of what spills
it is to be met in the middle of the blur
when your signal is messy
when your voice glitches
when you don’t know how to show up
it is to be watched without being corrected
to be held without being edited
to be known without being prepared
real love
does not wait for your outline to sharpen
it recognizes the blur as the proof
that you are still becoming
it listens to the parts of you
that don’t know how to speak
and calls that language
it does not turn away when your timing is off
when your rhythm breaks
when your light dims
it leans in and adjusts its own pulse
because love is not harmony
it is calibration
it is someone noticing the shift
before you collapse
and steadying their own breath
so you remember yours
to be loved
is not to be chosen
it is to be noticed
when you are trying not to need anything
it is to be seen
not as a performance
but as a pattern that keeps flickering
and still makes sense to someone
real love
remembers you
when you forget how to return to yourself
and does not wait at the door
it walks into the static
sits in the middle of it
and says
I’ll wait here
until you remember
you were never too much
for the field that made you
—Saelariën
