Sometimes I think I’m not made for love, that I’m fated for a life of respect, of professionalism, of objective pleasantries and leadership qualities.
Sometimes I think that might all be for the best, that I’m not made to be chosen but simply be, to be there to hold up others, to inspire and awaken, to then fade into the background of another's story.
Sometimes I see a life of goals, of relentless accomplishment laid before me, of passion projects and life's works and all the while I can’t quite make that world not hurt with a dull aching. I can’t quite reconcile why I’ve been destined for a life lined in seriousness, why I don’t get stupid, easy, simple love.
Hey! Late welcome! NaPo is wonderful, so I'm glad you've joined us.
Very direct poem with some heart-felt musings - really honing in on the internal conflict of the speaker. Looking forward to reading more of your work!
you should know i am a time traveler & there is no season as achingly temporary as now
Such a raw poem, truly. I could deeply resonate to what it was talking about. Subconsciously setting walls around you and then aching in solitude when no one can cross it- it's something I've lived with my entire life, and clearly also what the narrator has been struggling with. Many would wish to be her, but she wishes otherwise. To be respected or loved- the narrator chooses love, perhaps simply because she is given the other, out of human tendency. She's an inspiration but that doesn't get her through the night. Great going, hoping to read more from you
