I'm not proud of myself for becoming like them;
addicted to tiny blips of self-gratification,
I have lamented my losses,
burned countless bridges,
all for the sake of self-protection.
I wonder if I have it in me
to see what someone offers,
accept it gratefully.
Then I remember.
I don't feel entitled to be a bitch,
despite subjection to tiny
and massive heartbreaks.
Is it so unthinkable to act like one?
I now ghost with the best of them,
say 'I love yous', I'm not sure I mean,
vacillate between 'stay' and 'leave',
wanting to be held and pushing away.
I run at a sign of changing tides,
wanna be the all in someone's eyes,
but if I sniff the slightest doubt,
I refuse to bide my time.
Who is fooling who?
I know who I am when I look in the mirror
through cracked lenses.
Am I willing to admit I don't know how to love?
Or if I do, and this is all a tragedy,
then when will I accept
the need to surrender?
My mind whispers,
'be alone and happy as a known stranger.'
Love also speaks to mute those words,
'I always overcome.'
Each damaged piece will
be put back together,
and so I try again.
Emily C. Poésie © 2019
Photo Credit: MabelAmber | Pixabay