I'm fashionably late to loving myself

soaring high

loving as i am

i'm scared i will

end up loving the wrong kind

not that they don't deserve love

but because when they take

they take chunks at once

feeding the famished

when your own plate

is anything but full

i will end up famished again

sharing; i want to do

however i haven't got enough 

to be sharing

i haven't got more than

just enough to suffice myself

i have just enough

and i choose to be selfish

i choose myself

i am sorry for doing so

but i know what i want

i want to fly

high enough to soar

to fail and fly

and fall again

for i am not afraid to do so

but what i am afraid of

is failing to offer myself love

failing to pick myself up

after the fall

someday i shall share

when my plate is filled

with delicacies

replenishing the famished

someday when i will be able to

share without being concerned

of how much more

i have left in me