Self, Loathed

I fear 

          myself, 

          impending loss, 

          massive change... 

I am lost...don't know myself, 

   don't trust myself. 

I fear my sexual expression, 

    my creative expressions 

     through words and food - 

        my love of food. 

My zest for life itself cowers under the hovering cloud of bad choices. 

I fear, I fear

I fear hurting the ones I love

Again

More

Still

I am a crumpled-up paper towel...stiff, but formless - 

used, but not for any great purpose. 

I've achieved all I ever wanted to, and then my gluttony turned rancid and I've tainted it all. 

But what more should I dream of, than the beauty I've already built, nurtured, achieved? 

What more do I deserve? 

At this point - 

Nothing. 

I deserve nothing. 

Nothing good, at least. 

Pain and anguish and despair? 

Yes. 

I've earned those. 

Pile them on, as is my due. 

And then, what? 

What next? 

When do I start to dream again? Of the joys and passions and beautiful things? 

Redirect

For me, love's trajectory is always pointing toward forever.

As it blossoms from the smallest seeds, it builds toward forever in every whisper, at every root and from every leaf. It hurts when it ends, because my heart was laying a foundation for always...

Loving fiercely 

Checking and adjusting 

Forever might be shorter than I expected