Perhaps You Love Me

Perhaps the first time she heard the words “I love you,” they were pure. They weren’t connected to a raised hand or unfaithful lips. They carried warmth every part of her had trusted. Love had meant something beautifully desirable to her ears.

Perhaps the first time she received a gift, it was a celebration, not an apology. The item reflected how well someone understood her, how much someone cared. It wasn’t a bribe to excuse her pain. Someone showed her how grateful they were just to have her in their life.

Perhaps the first time she let someone do something for her, they enjoyed being helpful. They didn’t expect a claim over her innocence in return. They relieved her of a burden, because someone loved her enough to do so.

Perhaps the first time she was held it was comforting. It wasn’t a restraint holding her back. It wasn’t a mark she had to cover up. It was affection. There was safety and security at the beginning. Someone dried her tears and held her hand like she was the most precious thing they could have touched.

Perhaps that is why she needs time. She needs someone to keep showing up, giving her undivided, positive attention. She needs dates, even if they’re talking on a blanket under the stars. The only love she can trust is the one that grows in time. The one she can see, hear, feel, know time and time again. The one without room for deceit. They are either there, or they are not.