What Would It Feel Like to Be Loved by Me?

Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be loved by me...

Is it like warm soup on a rainy night?

Or like hugging a friend you haven’t seen in years?

Does it feel like coming home after a long, exhausting trip?

Like finally getting to rest after pushing yourself too hard?

Or is it too much? Too heavy?

Does it feel like being trapped instead of held?

Like tension you can’t escape?

Like background noise you’d rather turn off?

Like trying to speak but never being heard?

Am I too intense? Too distant? Too hard to love?

Why does thinking about it hurt so much,

like I’m already grieving something I never even had?