
I love
and wait to be loved
only to feel “Maybe I am not that bad”.
I wonder what that says
about who I am as a person.
In love
I can’t help but put my all,
put up the act of selflessness,
of fierceness.
Be the creature of passion
that I rarely am by myself.
How terribly normal I look
in the arms of my shape-shifting beloved.
How terrible it makes me feel-
this normal love,
that I can never get by being myself.