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.
