Thats what I wanted. To love you unconditionally. Yes, I wanted that in return, and I still do.
But somehow loving you became more important. It comes more naturally, more peacefully than trying to love myself. To see you for your whole self, for this man you’ve yet to become but that you are becoming, always. To watch your curls unfurl on your head, cut back, and rebirth. To watch your desire pull the curtain back on your confidence. To watch your hands find a steadiness around my hips, in the soils of Colorado, pecking away awkwardly at a computer, soulfully sprinkling salt over the Turkey stock at thanksgiving dinner. To give you an appreciative audience to the unraveling of your mystery.
Thats what I wanted, to love you unconditionally. And I still do.
I try to love myself, perhaps more, unconditionally. I unravel the mysteries of my shadows, I’m digging too many layers deep looking for a richer humus of myself. I’m turning over the layers looking for the beauty in how my selves have decomposed into themselves to bring me here. I'm trying to believe that that is sweeter - or will be - than the fiery sweetness of knowing you might love me.
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