I Am My First Love

Nights fell on hearts chest.

Chest swelled in pools of misunderstandings.

“Was love to me, one of this?”

I quiver to believe, that, this is all love has to offer…

Lay awake, a wee lass, whilst time past and growth commenced.

Dormant lay the day, loves embraces, desire to show themselves to me.

For love, was to choose me.

Cinematic depictions of love desired, was at a surface level, leaving an expectant anticipation for the end of the love that once was.

Barreling through all versions of love, yet feeling non, left my legs swelled with doubt and my head ache in broken anticipation.

Running a race to find it was becoming farther and dimmer, yet, a spark was at the end.

Live on, the body did, whilst coping with images in my head that became my dancing partners.

I lay with them at night, rather than in the comfort of the worlds beckoning calls.

She continued to age and love was believed to be found in a grandmother, but she was only a comfort for time of passing.

“For you are the reason you are to not be loved, if you are loved, the comfort you seek is fleeting,

As is love.”

The conquest for love came to a dormant fantasy, because the task of survival became the conquest of the devastating reality..of my reality.

How could love be when love isn’t felt?

I ponder internal propositions whilst stating, “I love you”, whilst love is still misunderstood.

Years pass, as does the notion of hope for the conquest of love.

Love was to lay in man’s arms of the heavenly realm, yet a heart lay dormant still.

God of the true God, was never my God, because the love in which was spoke from tongues, was spoken by fellow believers in a love that didn’t exist.

Love was no fable, and yet discussed as if it was in present tense.

Phrases causing mazes in anxious mind, fueling the words in which we’re not kind.

Upon therapeutic conquest, the nature of love in which I once desired, ignited with hope.

There was rubble, you see.

Hearts song was long gone under the pitiful weight of a life lived and love forgotten.

Unlearning what love isn’t, was harder than learning what love was.

The entanglement of minds mess burdened the girl who just wanted to feel love.

Processes are slow and steady,

As is love.

A love not taught is a love learned, which is of bittersweet.

The trenches led me to believe there was more love than motion picture romance.

I glance at the mirror and tell it how proud I am of it, I don’t know how to tell myself..

Months pass through darkness and light.

Nights spent in hollowness, as days spent in hope.

Bitter nights became the nights where fights internally became louder, as I listened.

I heard my own songs as the years passed, and yet, the love in which hopes embrace continued to call, was at the horizon, but not at the fingertips as I desired so.

My desire was one not of desire, but of anguish.

Turmoil was loves enemy, therefore the nights in sought comfort, I found darkness, where my pain was my friend and death an accent piece in the fibers of my room.

I left faith in a God in which comfort and love was to be sought, and yet, once I left, a peace like rivers flowed of promise and of a hope I knew existed.

Hope was the first piece of the broken love I had been searching for, without you, we are at sea with no boat or canoe.

I got to know hope, the names in which it went by, and how it spoke of love, was fondly so.

This hope I found, let a seed be sown.

I lay on grasses on these summer nights, finding rest in between struggled nights with internal fights.

The screams and jabs that fought with hope didn’t hurt me like life did with no hope.

I clung on to the light.

I stumbled upon discoveries of undercover truths and sung lullabies.

I found peace as I lifted my eyes to find the sky’s above me danced with freedom.

Freedom came as another piece in which life wanted to always gift to me.

It released my shame, yet my fear pulled me back.

I feared the unknown of the good because life never seemed good.

Yet, hope was a piece, as now was freedom.

More was to come in the shortest of hours, where she rested in sun, and wildflowers.

She let down her hair with, what seemed as loves embrace, until high tide came and she be swept out to sea, but, hope and freedom now to keep her safe, as she swim, no longer drenched and afloat.

She stumbled upon the embraces of a mysticism, once releasing the notion that she couldn’t hear what sung true in her minds eye.

The day I met love, I let love.

Yet, to meet, is to not know.

Cards, not tricks, became daily lessons in which I found difficult to rid myself of past antics, that..were never mine, just a result of what once was.

Fear was a piece of me, but not apart of who I am now.

I had to let the fear drip from my brow, whilst naked and having to grapple on to what seems the end, yet peace is within nightfall and singing through..to not forget, yet, remember and know.

Medication and meditation were introduced as a proposition to a worker, and I accepted aggressively and hard work, was hard.

Amongst the thorns a lily sat idle, yet, under ground were its own roots, amongst the thorns, above she not waver.

Under she squirm and succeed to free from grounds comfort, and find its place in another land, not another someone.

A someone she was, a pioneer dropped within her lands, roaming through bumble and berry, taking breaks to eat sweet cherries.

Lay and rest in meadows so, she put them there, and watched the lily of valley grow.

Barefoot and nakedness amongst these lands are not of shame but of celebration.

As she step she find, that love has many of kind.

One of lost, one of had, one of taken, one of shared.

Ones of knighthoods, others affair, some forbidden, some not there.

Yet it was she who watched all unfold amongst the years of thorns surrounding her so.

She was able to watch, as she also could now be there.

She has a chapter in which has come to close, it is of a girl, who hated herself in mirrors, reflections and clothes.

She hated herself from her head to her toes.

She said, “I’m ugly”, and her mom thought so.

She now is walking, knowing her moms talking, was just to the mirror that you were, dear.

For I stand in the mirror, and as I walk away, I remember my face, and I see now, love is in the eye of the beholder, not of the beheld.

Power is found within expression of understanding there is love in freedom, and that love has no room for fear, nor doubt.

Yet the only love in which you can maintain is of your own.

For abundance must cultivate within,

So you can tell yourself, you are not ugly because of the shape of your chin.

Loneliness is only lonely when you don’t know who you are.

To know ones self is to study ones self.

I looked into the mirror today, and I caught a glimpse from the glow that the sun offered.

I saw who I was for the first time, in my brilliance and bright.

I understood my body can not change over night.

That, to look to the future is to live in the future, as is the past, there is fear intermingled in the mind and love left behind.

True love is not fleeting,

As I now have witnessed within myself.

I fell in love with you.

My girl.

My body.

My brain.

My heart.

My mind.

My soul.

My dreams.

My wants.

My good.

My happiness and my smile.

And I..

I am in love you.

Because the moment I laid my eyes on you, my heart skipped a beat, the room went dim and the light in which I possess.. shines more than it ever has..

and that,

Is a beautiful thing.

Love is patient.

Love is kind.

Love is long suffering.

Love is learned.

Love is known.

Love is of many firsts,

for she is my first love.