June 15, 2020

Don’t call me Sweetheart. {Poem}

You told me today that I had a “sweet heart.”

I know that you had only good intentions, but it left me with space—so much space, too much ordinary.

I don’t want to be remembered as a sweetheart.

Fierce, raw, honest, deep, kind, relentless perhaps, but not sweet.

Saying my heart is sweet reminds me of my teacher in school when I was eight, “Nice is a nice word, but not a good one to describe people or beauty; you can do better than that,” she said.

I understand her now, and she was right. I can do and be better than that, and so can you.

Sure, it is nice to have a sweet heart, but that leaves space—too much space for mediocrity, niceness, and half-hearted words and actions.

I don’t want half-hearted affection or attention. I am not half-hearted in my love for you, nor with the hopes of the things I’ll do, be, and see in my life; nor with the hopes of things I have for what you’ll do, be, and see in yours.

I don’t want to be remembered as a sweetheart.

I want to be remembered for a fierce heart that loves without exceptions. The one you couldn’t forget, not because I was sweet, but because I was so much more than that.

Our lives are made for more than that.

Call me anything but sweet. I don’t want to be remembered as a sweetheart.


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