I wish that I could love myself the same ways I am told I am loved.
I would hold myself with a confidence unfamiliar to my bones as they are,
Aware that I am fallible but believing that I am good;
Having faith I am good.
I wish that I could love myself the same ways I am told I am loved.
I would speak with a surety that is foreign to my voice,
A dialect that commands the respect that I should not have to ask for;
Respect I am entitled to.
I wish that I could love myself the same ways I am told I am loved.
I would open with glee my heart and my arms to give of myself,
Being the paragon of support and empathy that I am believed to be;
The paragon I crave to be.
I wish that I could love myself the same ways I am told I am loved.
Because I know this is the way that I deserve to love myself.
But my deserving cannot pay for my own affections through mere knowing;
Knowing is non-synonymous with love.