I want you to love me the way I want to be loved. the way we both know I am worthy of being loved by you.
but you don't. but you can't.
so, I wrap myself around you, bending to your shape, breaking off the pieces of myself that don't fit with who you are. slowly transforming myself into who I think you want me to be. if I could just be who you wanted me to be, then you would love me the way I want to be loved.
but it's never quite right. I'm always too much. I'm always not enough. it's always just out of reach.
and I wake and wonder how I got here. again. how many times have I come back to some version of this. again. how many times will I. again.
and I want to love you the way you have never been loved. the way I know you deserve to be loved, regardless of who or what you used to be.
but you won't let me. and now I can't.
but I keep going, unwilling to admit my mistakes, my defeat, again. so I keep going and going. the slow and constant degradation of my soul becoming as familiar to me as the curve in your back that at night I try to fit myself into as if becoming a part of you. as my suffering becomes my only comfort.
and then I wake. again. and free myself of my hold on you. again. and reclaim the soul I tossed aside so easily. again.
and I love myself the way I want to be loved