I wish I had that type of love where words could soothe, where softness could appease my hardness, where running fingertips through my hair could heal my mind. He keeps me safe, but safe is not soft. He is loyal, but loyal is not loving. He is strong, but strength cannot contend with tenderness. Spitting image of my paternal figure; thinking a man’s duty is being a sturdy rock. I wish I had a delicate pebble from the ocean, but searched for a boulder in the canyon.

Published by notapeepbutlotsofpaper

A silent voice with lots to say. I speak with pens to stay away.

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