The sun has just set and I feel the warm rays pressing against my face.
When I close my eyes, they remind me of the feeling of your hands on my skin,
burning flesh telling me to give more than I contain.
You are an enigma,
by enigma, I mean that you are very difficult for me to understand.
Understanding is a complicated beast that I am always chasing,
rummaging through open closets and bins filled with emotions you work to convince me are love.
I am not positive that you know the difference between depending on someone and loving them,
not sure you know the difference between love and being in love and I am a tiny speck in a sea of minnos seeking something true but falling for the trap.
Did you hear my desperate breathing, me working overtime just to breathe in these emotions you try to drown me in?
I bend and I snap. I break.
I have been bending for you for so long that I have learned to ignore the pain.
I would call that strength but saying the words aloud make me think of weakness.
When did being in love become a weakness? When did your hands stop feeling like bliss away from the cold and more like scalding heat and miscellaneous “I love yous”?
When did the meanings of our words break? When I bent one too many times or bent too far perhaps.
Am I simply a sinner, seeking purgatory in self?
I know solely that I am girl. Girl heart first and heavy, ready to take what she has come to get, seeking more than she has ever known.
I am love. It took some time for me to realize that I am expected to be more in love with myself than you will ever be with me.
This is how I learn to bend without the opportunity to break.
You are opinion. You are headfirst and stubborn and the bridge between questions like “What does it look like to love someone so much that you cease to care for self?”
I looked in the mirror and saw self, I have not seen her in such a long time that she was an unfamiliar but welcome stranger,
somewhat mystical, standing at my doorstep and asking for permission to enter like she was someone worthy of being feared, like she was not the best thing I have ever loved, the worst thing I have ever lost.
Now she reminds me when I am down that I am not a minnow,
not someone thirsty for all that love promises because she tells me that I am worthy of loving myself. No bending or breaking required…
