Imperfect and Enough

I mage:    Evie S. (   evie-s.com   )

Image: Evie S. (evie-s.com)

Imperfect and Enough

 

Every night the memories come flooding back;

I feel the deep cut of an old wound.

Well, it’s really not that old,

it was only just last year.

 

The last person I fell in love with I was too good for.

I knew it ever since our first fight.

Oftentimes I wondered, 

does he even have a moral compass?

 

But this one seems too good for me.

Smart, funny, respectful, thoughtful.

How could I even begin to match him?

 

I shake my head, so disappointed in myself.

“You are enough,” I whisper softly.

 

And then I say it again, just as softly.

And I keep repeating it until I am reassured

Or until I’ve cried myself to sleep.

 

The next night comes and the shame is right on cue.

I tell myself to stop these destructive thoughts right away.

Then I bully myself into feeling like the most

inadequate human on the planet.

 

Time passes and I lie awake

Anxiety a soaring eagle, thoughts a sounding whale.

In a final desperate attempt,

I open my journal and begin to write. 

 

See, they tell me not to write about love

Because that’s what everyone does.

I do it anyway, because my poetry is for me

 

They tell me to edit my work

To keep a consistent structure

To paint the world black and white

To show my life as success or failure.

 

But I don’t because that’s not my truth.

It’s probably not yours either.

 

I write to paint my life,

unorganized and unrefined.

I write to develop myself,

untraditional and unapologetic. 

Maya SiegelComment