"don't go pouring from an empty cup", he says,
I wave my hand holding a cup already emptied;
the vision already blurred,
I can't pay my lessons any heed.
my arms shake with anticipation of what happens next,
my limbs freeze and chills ride up my sleeves.
"how hard is it?" he asks, "I've lost my way back it seems",
I answer hesitantly but I lose my way ahead as well.
when did I get off the station, where did I bid farewell?
when did I hand you my belongings,
when did contemplation turn to helpless impulsivity,
when did my narration abandon my own pain?
for some reason, I keep chanting in faith
praying that I gain the courage to take up space
to own my losses and wins, to stand proud when needed
but this time I shall not shy away from parts of me,
parts that feel unloved,
parts that feel ashamed to be,
parts that long for unhealthy choices,
parts of me, that make me whole. <3
YOU ARE READING
I'm fashionably late to loving myself
PoetryThe world would be dull if love, poetry, admiration, zeal, passion, and romance wouldn't lace each strand of our heavenly web. I spill my heart on this one love letter to the entire humanity. In a faint voice though, soft enough to hear only when yo...
