A yearning to be seen.
To be valued.
To be held.
To be loved.
Romantically, platonically, physically, mentally, spiritually—
A craving etched into every fragile fiber of my being.
Yet, with the faintest touch,
a breeze brushing my skin,
a flood of questions rises.
Why?
Why me?
Why their kindness?
What lies behind those glistening eyes?
That gentle smile?
The softest of gestures,
so impossibly tender?
Why would anyone— anyone—
turn their light toward me?
A desire, fierce and aching,
Yet when fulfilled, it unravels,
slipping through trembling hands,
tainted by doubt.
And the answer is simple,
cruel in its clarity:
I cannot love myself.
I do not know how.
How can I trust their kindness,
when I see no worth in my reflection?
I am a hollow yearning,
reaching out,
only to flinch when love reaches back.
YOU ARE READING
Written By Emotions
PuisiA collection Written by emotions Poems written with blood and tears
