Some of the most meaningful words we ever hear aren’t grand declarations.
They’re the quiet ones.
The ones that make us feel safe.
He Asked Permission came from thinking about what healthy love really looks like. Not the kind we often see in films or read about in novels, where someone sweeps another person off their feet. Instead, I wanted to explore a love built on respect, patience and choice.
The poem begins with a simple image:
“He never stood in front of me.
He stood beside me.”
To me, those lines say everything.
He isn’t trying to lead my life or make my decisions. He isn’t asking me to become someone else. He simply chooses to walk beside me.
I’ve been in relationships where control was brutal, crushing and mentally draining. It slowly suffocated me as a person until I no longer recognised myself. I stayed because I genuinely believed that was what love looked like.
It wasn’t.
Love doesn’t ask you to lose who you are.
It doesn’t demand that you become smaller so someone else can feel bigger.
It doesn’t silence your voice, control your choices or make you afraid of being yourself.
That’s why He Asked Permission means so much to me. It imagines the opposite of control. A relationship where respect comes before expectation, where support replaces possession, and where someone doesn’t try to lead your life—they simply ask if they can walk beside you.
As the poem unfolds, every promise follows the same theme.
“If you need time, I’ll give you space.”
“If you need to scream and shout, I’ll be your shield.”
“If you need an ear, I’ll listen.”
“If your thoughts become too heavy, I’ll be your sounding board.”
“If you feel broken, I’ll help you heal, but only in the way you choose.”
None of these promises take away independence. They don’t try to rescue or control. They recognise that healing belongs to the person experiencing it.
One of my favourite lines is:
“He never called me a burden.
He called me… light.”
Sometimes the greatest gift another person can give us is to see our worth when we’ve forgotten it ourselves.
The title, He Asked Permission, is at the heart of the poem.
Permission isn’t about asking to take control.
It’s about asking to be invited into someone’s life.
It’s about understanding that love cannot be demanded. Trust cannot be rushed. Healing cannot be forced.
By the end of the poem, he doesn’t ask me to follow him.
Instead, he says:
“Choose your own path.
If you’ll give me permission…
I’ll walk beside you.”
For me, that’s what love should be.
Not possession.
Not control.
Not changing someone into who you want them to be.
Just walking beside them, one step at a time.
Sometimes the strongest love isn’t the loudest.
It’s the one that quietly asks,
“May I walk beside you?”
Thank you for reading
Your DislexicPoet 🖤
Poetry in a Northern Kitchen
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