A poem for you
1 April 2021
I no longer yearn for poems written about me, for me.
The torment that used to come with such… pleasures?
The dissecting, the wondering, the tug at the heart.
What does it mean?
There was an unspeakable manipulation.
The last ditch [first ditch. middle ditch] effort for attention.
Pay attention to me paying attention to you.
These days there are no more poems to worry about dissecting. I’m free of the wondering.
My emotional energy is spent elsewhere, with people who’s intentions are genuine, loving, sincere, meaningful.
I’ve acquired real friendships that aren’t wrapped up in subtext and need. How freeing it is to love whole and openly and without condition.
Without the constant threat of abandonment.
Without the constant threat of abandoment.
There it is. Another aha moment. Add that to what I’ve learned over the past six years.