a poem for self-love

Tonight I am working on forgiving all the parts of myself. 

The parts that I hate (yes, hate). The parts of myself I’m unable to love right now... the fractures of me that I’ve abandoned again and again. And the residual energy of a contained stew that emerges out of fear, insecurity or an overactive nervous system.

Tonight I am holding myself in the addictive cycle of in between and not quite yet.

The verge of a leap. A breath suspended in fear. The need to know how this movie will end feels like a never ending game of “they love me, they love me not” on a flower with endless petals.

I am witnessing the parts of me that I sometimes feel are damaged beyond repair and the parts that love those parts just as they are - no different.

The parts of me that long for something out of empty ... the pieces of me that are still scattered on the floor that I might need help from others to pick up little by little from time to time.

The internal organs turned inside out on the internet for the world to read and hear.

The times I felt unworthy because I couldn’t “get it right”. The times when I wasn’t able to meet another’s needs or even meet my own needs. I forgive myself for not even knowing what I need sometimes.

I am working on forgiving myself for the mistakes I’ve made. The pain I’ve caused myself and the pain I’ve caused to others.

And if I can move, little by little, to forgive those pieces of me a little more each day...then I would say that’s a life worth being led.