A good Partner? I feel like I’m not being a good partner. The partner I am in my imaginary world is someone who knows how to respect love and hold it together. A partner who holds her lover’s hands, kisses them, and worships them as if they are God. A partner who cooks for her lover, lets them fall asleep in her lap without a worry, and loves endlessly and unconditionally—not perfectly, but wholeheartedly. And none of that feels impossible. It’s actually pretty basic, and I know I can do it. So what is stopping me? Why does the craving for separation still linger around me? Why does pain seem…

I love the curves of my arms when I roll up my sleeves, and my tattoos shine like quiet victories. I love the beauty spots below my chest, the scars on my neck, and the air that sets me free. I love my hands, my thighs, my eyes, my lips in a bow shape, my hair And no-makeup face. Whether smiling or crying in pain I love how I don’t get bored of wearing the same clothes again and again. I love when I dance off beat, sing off key, my laugh more than a smile and my chipped mug of tea. I love when I kiss my shoulders, stroke…

I’ve held my hopes in quiet hands, Looked for love in sinking sands. Fell for smiles that weren’t meant true Told myself they almost knew. I’ve been strong in nights that felt too long, But strength, alone, can feel all wrong. I want a hand to meet my own Not to fix me, but feels like home. Sometimes I feel it’s all my faultMaybe I give too much, or halt. But I just wanted something to stay. So I kept hoping, anyway. I’m not worn out by love itself Not longing for some perfect shelf. I’m just tired of chasing signs, In people who could never be mine. I want…