Why can't it be?

Why can’t it be the two of us? I ask myself that in the quiet moments—when everything feels real, when your presence feels like home, when loving you feels so natural it almost feels right. Almost. But deep down, I know the truth I keep trying to outrun. If it could be just us… it already would be. So I stay here, in this in-between— chosen in moments, but not in reality, held in private, but not in the light. And it hurts… because I know I’m capable of a love that’s loud, certain, and whole. The kind that doesn’t hesitate. The kind that doesn’t hide. Yet here I am, loving you quietly, while questioning myself loudly— Why am I fighting for a place that was never fully mine to begin with?