Lovers, who question if their love is enough

I pray that one day,
When the nights you lay in bed and wonder if you’re loveable,
You still hold on to that thread of hope that says you are.
I pray that when words feel like deadweight on your heart,
You place both hands over your heart
And extinguish the fires the best way you know how.
Flipping through the pages of your story,
The spine of the book showed signs of being worn.
Like two collaborative artists,
We stitched seams and strengthened binds,
Cross – legged on the floor,
We hunched over and added what was scrawled in the margins –
To be included in the actual chapters.
I too,
Gave the night my exasperations.
I too,
Mouthed silent prayers that to love and to never spill – never topple over
Hurt more than anything else.
I pray the nights,
You cover your face with both hands and silently scream that your love is not enough,
You continue to not run away from love.
I am waiting for you.
I am waiting for the bashfulness,
The sheepish smiles,
The plagues of uncertainty about your life.
And when you feel as if your light does not shine bright enough –
I hope you see that some of us do not want the whole sun,
But the streams of it gleaning through the leaves of the trees.
One day you’ll find that you are a lot like what you want in your life – brave.
It’s a bravery that climbs mountains during the day, and rests in the valleys at night.
One day you’ll cross bridges made out of driftwood,
carrying the book about yourself and finding it’s okay to tell the story of your journey.
I pray that one day we sit close enough,
Where our knees touch and over tea –
We will talk about what made us brave,
And hope.
In the plastic upholstered seats that stick to the back of our thighs,
We will give what we feel was not good enough to give,
But it is.
Your love is enough.
I pray one day you’ll witness that it paddles alongside of you every step of the way.

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