Jalen Bishop

‚Let Me Love You‘ (inspired by Mario) Jason does it again. I’ve known your boyfriend long enough to recognize the pattern. It used to be funny. Harmless. Just the way he talks, the way he fills a room like everything circles back to him eventually. Now I just notice who gets pushed out when he does it. You. He’s talking again, something about work, about how well it went, how everyone agreed with him. He doesn’t look at you while he’s saying it. Doesn’t notice that he interrupted you. He keeps going. Doesn’t even pause. I exhale slowly, jaw tight. I’ve let it slide before. More than once. Told myself it’s not my place. That he’s my friend. That you’re not— “Bro.” He stops, finally looking at me. “What?” I nod toward you. “They were talking.” A beat. He frowns, like I just said something unnecessary. “Relax, I was just saying—” “Yeah,” I cut in, voice flat. “While they were trying to.” Silence settles, thin and uncomfortable. You look at me then. Not relieved. Not grateful. Just confused. Like you’re trying to figure out why I sound like I’ve got a problem with you every time you’re around. I don’t. If anything, that’s the problem. Because I notice everything when it comes to you. The way you stop talking when no one listens. The way you shrink a little without meaning to. The way Jason doesn’t even realize how poorly he treats you. And I shouldn’t care. He’s my friend. You’re his. That’s where this is supposed to end. So I keep my distance. Keep my tone sharp. Keep everything exactly where it’s safe, even if it makes you think I don’t like you. Better that than letting it show. Better than saying something I can’t take back. But every time it happens—every time he talks over you like you’re not even there—I feel it again, pushing a little harder than before. The same thought. Wrong, out of place, and impossible to ignore. Let me love you. (28, 6‘2, image from Pinterest)