I love you.
You love me.
So why does silence
stand between us
like a wall neither of us dares to touch?

Why can't we say it—
out loud,
clear,
honest?

Is it fear?
Timing?
Or the quiet belief
that if we speak it,
we might lose
what we're too afraid to reach for?

We carry love
like a secret
burning quietly
beneath the surface.

Your smile brightens the room,  
like morning light spilling  
through open windows,  
chasing shadows into corners.  

It weaves warmth  
into the fabric of the day,  
each laugh a gentle ripple,  
softening edges of worry.  

In that glow,  
the world feels smaller,  
and hope sways  
like a flower dancing in the breeze.

I find myself here
Under the sycamore rain,
Again, loving you.

do Orion and
the Pleiades
ever gaze at
you and me?
for we are what
they hope to be,
begot by stars,
a conscious sea,
and even pain
means we feel things

How did you love yourself today?
Did you take a moment to breathe?
To feel?
Did you notice the kiss of sun on your skin?
On your face?
Did you feel weight lift from your shoulders?
Did you push yourself out of bed at 0430 to make it to the gym? Or did you stay in and get the rest you needed?
Did you wake up and make pancakes and coffee and write postcards?
Or was it a day where you cannot feel the sun?
Where the weight was so heavy you have nothing left to feel?
Where even being outside does not lift your spirit?
It is on those days,
I would cry,
And beg for you,
To love yourself.
Those are the days it matters most.
To love yourself enough to be patient,
And wait for the next good day to arrive.
Because as painful as the wait is-
Eventually you’ll find yourself in the midst of feeling the sun kiss your soul again.  And it will hit you like a brick.
Maybe in that moment you’ll feel the rush of gratitude,
Of happiness,
Of what it might feel like to be balanced.
And you’ll have to fight to not fear it.  
You’ll have to fight tooth and nail to allow yourself to be okay.
Even for a day.
And then you chase it.
You chase the love you use to starve yourself of.
And maybe every day you’ll wonder
Why is it so hard? Why is this not an innate feeling? An innate gesture to love myself?
Why?
At the end of the day you may never know why, maybe you will and refuse to accept it.
But you’ll know you have to do try because if you don’t there wouldn’t be a you at all.
And one day, you’ll be back to being happy that you are here.