I held a lover once in my hands
Love I thought that’d last, untouched by Time’s sands.
To be loved by another, was all I thought I ever wished for,
Naivety crept in my heart, and I knew soon I’d close the door,
For both I and my lover lost the love that once or never bonded us.
I had erroneously believed that all my life needed
Was romantic love. Passion, heat, desire—alas this dream fleeted.
Now that I am alone my foolish hearts repeats errors of old,
Believing all other types of love to be far too cold.
What a fool I was and am, for believing my life empty without a lover!
I had escaped in the fantasy that a lover would solve all.
But an anchor attached onto a person only leads to a tragic fall.
I scoffed those who spouted the line we’ve all heard and put on the shelf.
“You can’t love another if you don’t love yourself,”
Yet I find those words inefficient still, and in need of revision.
For I have loved many a friend, many a lover, and many a more
My capacity to love others has never been stilted, but I myself lay on the floor—
“You can’t love yourself by trying to love others” is how I think it should go,
For I would believe I could only love me if someone else loved me, but alas no show.
No romantic or platonic or familial love can remedy the lack of love for oneself.
For when my lover no longer loved me, I cried and shouted,
“If he can’t love me who will?” And my close friends all touted,
“Well I love you, I love you a lot.” And my family the same.
And when all felt lost and lonely, I saw I had been to blame.
“If no one will love me who will?”
It’s me! It’s me! It’s me who will love me!
Because no one else has to spend as much time with me as I do!