Love Letter

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