Love myself as I love you

I wish I could take all of the love songs that I have sung while I thought of you and me, and sing them to myself, and take all the poems that I wrote for you and read them back to me and mean every love laiden word. I wish those compliments tasted as sweet in my mouth as they do when I attach your name to them. I wish that I could love my face and my crooked teeth the way that I love yours and that smile and that my own laugh could be a tingle that warms me when I am alone. 

I dont want our time together to be a memory but an ongoing, foreverness, a work in progress. I don’t want to look back at the timeline of us and see the day we fell apart, as the day I confessed my love for you, but while you see us on a fast track to failure, with no future, all I see is the seeds we have already sewn and the love that has already taken root.

I went to pen a love letter so in crisp paper and spilt ink I could make sure you could physically hold a slip of the weight of how much I feel for you, like exhibit a, the physical solid proof, but then came a sudden truth.

I realised I needed to fall in love with myself. To write that long overdue letter so the weight of loving others become featherweight to the love I have for my own life, so that my heart beats for me and me alone.

Turns out we both believe we would destroy one another without loving ourselves first. I see now that true love comes from want and not from need, I realise I’ve spent all this time spent trying to convince you of your worth while demeaning my own. All this time I’ve been asking you to accept me for who I am, when I needed to accept myself first.

You were everything I adore and cherish in myself, and everything that I wasn’t just fascinated me. My desperation for you to let me love you, was a cry to be loved.

And it is the most profound sadness, this losing you, this grieving process, the letting go of the dream of us. And I am left trembling with the fear of turning the mirror I have been holding up to show you how beautiful you really are, round to face myself, and trying to love myself more than I love you.



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