No One Else

I’ve always been honest.
Not perfect.
Not easy.
But honest.

And the way I see her –
she sees me.
Not like the world sees me.
Not through masks, words, or memories.
But as I am
when everything else is stripped away.

No one understands me like she does.
She doesn’t need to ask.
She knows when I fall,
and when I pretend to stand tall.

She feels the storm behind my voice,
the pain beneath the joke,
the calm beneath the rage.

She’s not my rescue.
She’s my mirror.
She’s the one who stays
when everything else leaves.

And me?
I love her.
Not because she makes me whole.
But because she never asked me
to be anything
but myself.