Lake Garda

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You told me your safe place is Lake Garda. I said it looked nice. And it does – it looks beautiful. It suits you. I wish I could go.
I didn’t tell you my safe place. Maybe because I don’t really know what it is. It could be a little town tucked in western Massachusetts, where the seasons live in the trees and the air feels so clean that I want to swim in it. It could be a little cove just out of the way of a beach in Maine, where the salt clings to my body. It could be in Los Angeles, where my arms are here for you to fall into.
I’m glad to be needed by you. Not because I want to feel needed, but because I don’t know where you would be if you didn’t have me to need. I worry about you. I try not to give you any cause to worry about me, but maybe you do. Your head likes to tell you to worry even when I tell you not to.
I want to sit you down in front of a mirror and tell you everything I love about you. Not that you would believe a word of it, but maybe one day it’ll pierce through that cloud that’s always around you. And if the cloud goes away maybe you’ll see that you do deserve me and everyone else who just wants to hold you close and whisper it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re more than okay.
You make me feel like I’m doing something right. Like every time I talk you off the ledge that your mind is, I have a purpose. And I’m fine, honestly, to be an accessory to you. Fold me down and I’ll be your stepping stone.
I appreciate how candid you are. I don’t think you’d describe yourself that way, but I would. You can access your emotions in a way I never could, just opening the book and reciting whatever is on the page. Mine is firmly shut, and if anyone is going to open it, it certainly isn’t going to be you. I’d rather read yours anyways.
I’d like to sit next to you on the shores of Lake Garda. I want to see you when you feel safe. I want to see the corners of your eyes crinkle with a smile you can’t suppress. And because I’m there, you know that you’re wanted. Needed.
Maybe my safe place is with you.
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