My Soliloquy Disgruntled With Love

/wən dā/

Im yet to claim myself.

Im yet to understand how being me in its fulness is bearable

Im yet to learn not to use modest descriptive words such as " bearable" when Im the subject

Im yet to demand to be understood without explanation

I am yet to be within my feels without feeling like its overbearing when im not alone

I am yet to relinquish the idea of having a standard on how i want to be treated

I am yet to feel the tenderness that comes with a palate of "really here for you"

I am yet to be familiar with being open to the idea of allowing myself to being accommodated