a..aha totally didnt lose my shit over this..

Written by Lucas <33
can this guy put the pen down i might cry one of these days..

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“GUESSS WHAAAAAT?” 

“What?”

I think I love you too.

Not in a manner that scorches or rends. Not in a way that leaves ashes where bodies once were. I think I love you like the earth holds the sky at dusk- without demand, without claim. Like a zephyr brushing your cheek, leaving no trace, no expectation, only presence. It is not a love that rages. It is a love that lingers, an undercurrent beneath everything, patient and abiding.

Most people speak upon devotion in extremes: “Oh, I would die for you,” “I would kill for you.” Whereas, I would be kind for you. I would temper the impulses that might otherwise rend the cosmos, and indulge in violent nature, for you. I would rise an hour early each morning to craft coffee and breakfast, leave the lights aglow until your shadows felt secure, hold you so close that the clamor of existence dissipated, for you. My love does not incinerate, it does not consume. It envelops, it cushions, it sustains. Or, at the very least, it tries its utter best to.

And you tell me you wish you could give me the same gentleness I offer- as if my restraint were a gift you cannot return. Don’t believe that. You already provide me this love, you just express it differently. Your fierce honesty is tenderness, it makes me feel seen. The way you stay when everything else edges away is a constancy I could not live without. You think you are sharp, but to me you are not perilous- you are warm. You are not a mean spirit. You never were.

Gentleness is not frailty. It is the discernment to resist the overflow of passion, the audacity to cradle what is fragile, the deliberate refusal to harm when the universe tempts with fire. To love gently is to construct a sanctuary of quiet constancy in a world forged from chaos. And when I behold you, I know I am not a feral dog, and I will not bite. Never gnawing. My desire is not to incinerate, but to enfold. To hold. To hold you.

There is no language sufficient for the manner in which you stabilize me. There is no vocabulary adequate for the way your being is both gravity and light, both anchor and horizon. All human tongues fall short, for this- this tender love- is not meant to be named. It is to be lived, experienced, borne.

If you fear your own fire will consume, let mine equilibrate it. Let it be the hand that steadies, the air that fills your lungs without weight. Love does not have to ache. It can be infinite in its subtlety- quiet, yet holding the universe in its restraint.

And if all I ever bestow is gentleness, I hope it suffices to remind you- you were never destined to be loved roughly.

“You’re perfect!”

I require no sharper utterance than that.

“You’re fucking stupid,” you would likely retort, and I would laugh, because perhaps this is the closest either of us will ever approach saying I want you aloud, and it would be more than enough.

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I love you lu