I do not want to pull you
where your heart is not ready to go.
I do not want love
to feel like a door closing behind you,
or a hand on your back
pushing you toward something
before your soul has said yes.
I only want to stand here honestly,
with my heart open
and my hands gentle,
saying that I love you.
And I love him.
And somehow,
in the strange, beautiful mess of it all,
my heart has made room for both of you
without wanting either of you
to feel smaller.
I do not want anyone replaced.
I do not want anyone forgotten.
I do not want love to become a wound
just because it dared to grow.
So if you are unsure,
be unsure.
Let your feelings breathe.
Let them shake.
Let them ask questions.
Let them be messy and human.
I will not ask you
to silence your fear
just to make my hope more comfortable.
I only ask
that we keep choosing honesty,
that we speak softly
even when it is hard,
that we remember
there are hearts in this room,
not just desires,
not just dreams,
not just possibilities.
I want us all to be happy,
but not the kind of happy
that is built on pretending.
I want the kind
that can survive truth.
The kind that says,
we can go slowly.
The kind that says,
your no is safe here,
your maybe is safe here,
your fear is safe here,
and your love is safe here too.
Because I love you enough
to wait for your heart
to tell the truth.
And I love him enough
to want joy for him too.
And I love us enough
to believe
that whatever this becomes,
it should become gently.