In what kind of world would a woman, girl, pick a man who she had to chase? From the beginning it was true, disconsolate at being apart, new cycles feeding on the old, patterns becoming known.
A lost puppy, I called myself when I met you, my family emotionally left me behind, but you were one person who understood the trail I was headed on for good, leaving the comfort and guidance of god, but not just him, an entire community, most of my family. You were all I had, and so were my justifications.
Self love, and esteem, now what does that mean? The ability to see that someone sees you through glasses, revealing a person not whole in their eyes, maybe once a diamond with the flaws that come with time.
But I was a fighter, why not hope for clarity, a reconciliation of all that is missed, lost in translation we could learn a new language, ours, special to us and no other.
Hope can be lonely as months and years pass by, slowly resigning myself to the truth, that I can see others in all their jaded glory, then I can be loved and given shelter too.
Shelter for the heart, like all lovers should provide. Free giving and loving, free from insecurity.
Emily C. Poésie © 2017
