Monday, December 7, 2009

Love in all it's Forms

I’m afraid of not being loved
By my mom, because my father and then my older sister came first
By my sister, because she found the love of her life
By my best friend, because she found her one and only
By my surrogate sister, because she’s in love with a boy
By anyone who I come in contact with
What if they don’t love me forever
What if they can’t love me enough

I refuse to give my heart away
Instead
I use them to stoke my ego, then leave them before they can tear my heart strings
Constantly one step ahead
Trying to avoid heartbreak before I even get to know who they really are
Because we all know what happens when we give ourselves away –
We loose ourselves entirely
When we break, even if we are put back together, we will never be the same

Perhaps, I can re-frame –
To give to myself to someone else, means
I can take time to discover those areas which are uncovered
Handing over my heart, I can see more clearly the space in which it rests
Making room for more love to open and unfold
I know that I am loved, but sometimes I forget
I’m afraid of not being loved to the extent in which I love
I am afraid of not being loved
Aren’t we all?


Note: This is just poetry, I know that I am loved, by many, many individuals. But sometimes I forget, because love shows up in different ways, from different people.

4 comments:

Deidre said...

I used to be this way too, (in the running away from people who were into me), but when Inspector Climate showed up, it was so easy to just lean on him.

Radiogael said...

I know what you mean with this. It's like a brief glimpse of madness that sometimes envelopes us and overwhelms us, then dissipates as quickly.

btw, you are one of those people who's heart ratio is much bigger than most other people. You ARE love in many ways, so you'll always find it reciprocated

x

Radiogael said...

i know that you're not in this for awards, but i've given you one.


you can oick it up on my page my dear :)

Unknown said...

Excellent poetry. I'm definitely becoming a fan. Long poems can be hard at times but you finished this one without a glitch. Great Work.-fin

J.D.
www.writerontheverge.com