Long after dusk settles into indigo night, the stars shine proudly with haughty indignation.
Clouds filter through windy skies in a dance of shadow and light.
They see the thoughts that intrude through sleep and wake racing thoughts from fitful slumber.
Whispered memories tell me I’m not enough and there is no beauty or jewel within.
I know the lies but can’t separate them from truth without the light of his vision to see through.
I know to look in opposing views from the perspective he gave but memory shifts and I only see the failures painted over me by his artful brushstroke of rejection.
His bright light shines too far from memory to cast more than a haze of soft shadows dancing in the periphery.
My anchor becomes a distant memory in a dream imagined from hopeful fascination.
All thoughts of self disappear in him.
His words. His laugh. His joy. His shy smile and his proud stance.
Our words wash over me and I’m surrounded by his dreams. His accomplishments. What he does to make him be who he told me he was.
His beauty blinded me from seeing who he was. What was still fades and I have yet to see.
But I’m no longer blinded by the radiance of who I made him to be.
I see that in fitting our world around him, we left no room for me.
I see the spaces where I fit were outside of who we were and the empty spaces were full of my longing.
I whisper to the approaching dawn the ideas that form a weapon against insecurities.
You are amazing because of who you are and not what you do or what pleasures are found in you because you are worthy of being pleased.
Murmuring lips whisper prayers for peace and a love that sinks below skin and settles in the marrow of my bones.
I am enough to be and in the acceptance of my limits I find I have an abundance.