Between Loving You and Being Me

I accept it now—

even if you never see me

the way I see you,

even if your heart never leans toward mine.

It's okay.

Because I've reminded myself

of who I really am.

I am not pretty,

not perfect,

not the kind of woman

people look at twice.

I am not talented,

not brilliant,

not the kind who leaves

a mark that lingers.

I am just a person

who was given life,

a soul passing quietly,

a name among strangers.

Not special.

Not unforgettable.

And I know—

my insecurities are louder

than any kind words

I try to give myself.

I see flaws before beauty,

emptiness before worth.

I don't love myself.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But still…

I can accept

that your heart is not mine,

that your love is not for me.

Because deep inside,

I already knew—

I was only a friend,

maybe only a stranger.

And that's okay.

I'll carry this truth

with quiet hands,

and let you go

with all the love

I was never able

to give myself.