I said I would love myself.
But I didn’t know it meant
holding my own hand
through the fire
and telling myself
“we are not going back.”
I didn’t know
self-love would taste like silence,
like deleting numbers I used to beg,
like walking past mirrors
and seeing a stranger
who finally stopped shape-shifting.
Loving myself meant
not rescuing people
who threw me in the water.
It meant saying
“this still hurts”
without calling it home.
I used to think healing was soft—
incense, journals, candles, glow-ups.
But loving myself
has felt more like
screaming into pillows
and not answering calls
from people I once wanted to die for.
I love myself
until it hurts—
because for too long
I hurt myself
just to feel loved.
So now I stay in the ache
if it keeps me from the lie.
Now I cut the fantasy
before it grows teeth.
Now I hold the truth,
even when it burns.
Because the pain of honesty
is the only thing
that ever set me free.
-The Soft Witness
-
Author:
The Soft Witness (
Offline)
- Published: May 25th, 2025 00:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: MendedFences27
Comments2
Being honest with oneself is the precursor to being able to change and to be able to love not just self but others. A sincere and honest write. Nicely done
Thank you, and it took me 11 years to be honest with myself. I'm trying everyday.
I found this to be enthralling and real. Written with an honest passion, an introspective angle, and what I would call sheer courage. I will comment though that perhaps, "Loving yourself," is not meant to be a selfish attitude, but more a perspective of remaining true to yourself. I loved some of your phrasings, "holding my own hand through the fire," "A stranger who finally stopped shapeshifting," " not rescuing people who threw me in the water," and your final three lines. To sum up, I loved your poem and hope to read many more. - Phil A.
Thank you Phil....you made my day!!
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