The Insiders by Tijan

Bailey’s Letter to Kash

I told you before that I wanted more nights with you.

I demand more nights with you. I demand longer nights with you.

I see the outside you. I demand to know the inside you.

I want the words, the actions, the secrets. I want the you and me that no one else will ever know.

I want to hold your hand. I want to feel your hugs.

I want to get cards from you. I want dinners and roses and chardonnay. I want champagne, but I want the other good stuff. I want the sunset hand-holding. I want the sunrise coffee together. I want the laughter in the day, flirty texts, dirty sexts.

I want it all, and I want them with you.

I want to know your haunts. I want to tremble from them, alongside you.

I want the full picture of how you became you, from your first memory to your last memory, and when a new day starts and when that memory refreshes, I want those too.

I am greedy because I want all of you. Not some of you. Not a third of you. Not the good part of you, or the bad part of you. I want the lover, the friend, the part that will walk with me wherever I go, the part that will ride next to me, the part that will fight with me, for me, beside me.

I know you think I need more time. I don’t.

I know you think I was scarred. I wasn’t.

I know you think I need to heal still. Fuck no.

I’m good to go, so besides all the other gushy stuff in this letter, I want you to come over here.

I want you to take me, make me yours, because I already am.

I’m yours, Kash. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I love you.

So fucking give me you, okay?