Loving me

When you tell me that you love me,
I know, darling, you mean it.
The adoration in your eyes,
Tells more than words could ever convey.
When I catch you smiling at me,
As if I’m an angel from another land,
My heart sinks and dread creeps in,
‘Cause you don’t know who I really am.
I’ve done more wrongs than you can imagine,
Many a time, I can’t even recognize me.
I’m mean, I’m flawed, I’m broken;
I’m not the one you put on a pedestal.
I keep telling you, again, and again,
But all my pleas go in vain.
‘Cause I can’t confess what I’ve done,
All I can do is tell you that I’m wrong.
You tell me, I can open up to you,
Share with you everything old and new.
But how can I tell you anything at all?
My soul is closed off to me too.
So, darling, believe me when I say,
I’m not your perfect angel,
Not even the slightly broken fallen one.
I’m pure evil, my dear,
I am someone you should fear.

Featured image by: Elias de CarvalhoΒ fromΒ Pexels

58 thoughts on “Loving me

      1. Gentleman Dave says:

        Hehe, love your emojis! πŸ€—πŸ€—πŸ˜˜πŸ˜˜ I’m doing a little better, I think. Still hurting but waiting on the time to overcome it. Thank you for asking, sweetheart. How are you? πŸ’‹πŸ˜˜πŸ€—πŸ€—πŸ€—β€

        Liked by 1 person

  1. Brad Osborne says:

    Wonderful poem! It is difficult when others see us as more than we are. Caught up in the idolization of attraction, they gloss over the bad to paint their own version of perfection. And we continue forward knowing that at some point one of us, or both, will be bitterly disappointed when we don’t meet that expectation. Beautifully expressed, Shreya!

    Liked by 2 people

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