• eramnesia 67w

    I have a lot of leftover love in my heart, from all these years of hating myself. And if I can’t keep it for myself, I want to give it to someone else.

    Because I can look into someone else’s eyes and see the secrets in them, the misty pools of untold stories and hidden truths. Because when I touch their skin, I feel the soft scars of surviving, I feel where the sun kissed too roughly, where the cut was too deep but stopped just in time. Because when I taste their lips on mine, I can swallow the dust angels left behind when chiseling the smile that lifts me off my feet. And when I hold them in my arms, their body is close but still separate from mine. And I can see their soul burning brightly in front of me, so full of light and life. And I can carry their heart in gentle hands, hold it with care, wrap it in caution tape; these palms can become a shelter. Because I can see so much worth and beauty in them.

    But I can’t see any in myself. And I can’t lie to the truth. While I’m on my journey of learning to cherish my existence, this puddle of love collecting in my chest is mine to keep or pass on. Mine to settle with, to share, to give to anyone, even if it’s not to myself.

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     to those who tell me i can’t love anyone if i don’t love myself