There’s a version of him that only exists when the world goes quiet.
A softer, braver version — the one that chooses me without hesitation, without guilt, without the weight of the life he settled into.
In dreams, he reaches for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He doesn’t question it.
He doesn’t hide it.
He doesn’t pull back.
In dreams, he’s the man I always hoped he could be.
But morning steals that version away.
When he’s awake, he becomes the man who flinches at his own truth — the man who remembers who he’s supposed to be, the roles he has to play, the choices he made long before he was brave enough to choose me.
He chooses me in dreams but chooses convenience in daylight.
He chooses longing in the dark but silence when the sun rises.
He chooses honesty only when no one can hear him.
And that’s the part that finally breaks the spell:
If a man can only love you when he’s asleep, then he’s not choosing you — he’s escaping to you.
There’s a difference.
Because choosing me requires bravery.
Keeping me requires clarity.
Loving me requires a heart that doesn’t fold when morning comes.
And I’m done staying with someone who only shows up for me in a world that disappears the moment he opens his eyes.
— kim 🌙