I try to love even when my love is at their lowest. Destroyed. And the destruction is most potent. I try to love the spaces of their being that need to be acknowledge most. That hide away. That run. That disregard me and my feelings. The parts that hurt way too much for way too long. That push me away. And curse at me. And make me more broken. To let them know that every inch of them is perfection. That i have their back, even we i stretch myself too thin and don’t even know if mines still exists.

I am trying to rebuild the ruins of dread into something new, special, and strong. Even when my own foundation is washing away like Bermuda Beaches during a hurricane.

Because it has been a hurricane. And just when the weather looked like it was clearing out the turbulence picks up again. and again. and again. And I’m left to love through my loneliness. Under appreciated and unloveable. Unseen and Unheard. Unhappy and underneath. Under everyone and everything.

I love even though the core of my love is rotting. I give more of myself than I have left. I have extended the last of my struggled breath to make sure that their lungs cans fill with life again. I fight their battles and lose my own. I try but I won’t possibly ever be good enough so I feel so alone.

I want to be sure that when I kiss you with the breath of life that it is tender and sure. Even though all I face is a lack of sureties and unknowns. Abandonment. Refusal. Impatience.

I want to carry you past this. Support you through it. But I’ve been the doormat for so long.

At 3 am I cry out. I pour as many words as I can. Hoping that I can pick my love up. Even when I feel my breath leaving me. I feel excruciating pain in my chest. I think I experienced the physical representation of heartbreak. I felt my chest collapsing in.

I pour. I write. I share the most intimate expressions of the way i love them. The deepest, raw parts of the chambers of my heart. I’m firing on empty yet maybe loving my hardest.

I lose.

But I love all the same. Borrowing breath from a source not of my own. Racking my brain. Why am I not good enough? Not worthy to be loved right? So easy to hurt with no regard? So easily dismissed? Such an easy goodbye?

Take all I have to give. My vessel is bare. My soul is raw. My spirit’s of fear.

I love them. Why can’t …..