I’ve been slowly realizing

That I am my own favorite person.

I entertain myself better than anyone.

I play myself love songs,

With lyrics I wrote.

I paint how I see,

With my own eyes.

I laugh at my own jokes,

Often the hardest, often the most.

I love sharing me with her,

She loves me, and when I share

She Radiates.

When she does,

I am consumed with my own love.

She made me realize

I am not dirty, but rather

A dense bulb, a ball of

Pure energy.

It feels amazing to be

A flower

Married to the Sun.

Flowers, though,

Are a bit lonesome.

I love being by myself

My thoughts are my only true home.

I love performing someone else

Performing myself, would be


The sheer thought

Of being exposed

Being vulnerable

To all these other people’s opinions

Would kill me !

So naturally

I stay home, I stay closed

Off on my own.

I bloom for my Sun,

But at night

I close up,

Seeking a charge from

Somewhere internal

My lips, curled inward

Caressing myself, keeping warm

Preserving my powers until

My sun comes home.




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