I complete me. {a poem}

“You complete me.” ~ Jerry Maguire

 

That lil’ proclamation that every woman fantasizes

a man will profess to her. As if we’re not whole without him.

Have we ever considered that “me completes me?”

 

A journey of self discovery and non-attachment

reveals a deeper sense of love which knows no bounds.

But, it is a journey…

 

I can still taste you, smell you on me, feel

the warmth of your body next to me.

Yet, you’re no longer here.

 

I miss your brown eyes.

I like being around you. I love how I feel, how you feel.

In me. On me. Somewhere within my vicinity.

 

What’s this dance we do? It is not of this world.

Cosmic shit. Body parts mesh into one delicious blob.

The rhythm in sync. I don’t want it to end.

 

But, it does. It always does. It will end. You will leave.

Then what?

 

It’s time to curl up mouth corners,

a sly grin that only you and I know.

What played out is for our third eyes only.

 

It’s perfect because it is gone.

We know this. I know this. I can finally

press my lips on you and savor the moment.

My heart is full. I had you once.

 

And, maybe that’s what we need to remember.

Once is all we really have

so cherish it as if it were our last.

 

A gift to live another day. With or without him.

Life goes on so how do we show up for ourselves?

How do we make love to our very own souls?

 

Start simple; the little things. Isn’t it always about the little things?

 

Go and cook breakfast. Just for you.

Play with doggie.

Shower and make your bed.

Just sit there sometimes and space out.

That’s meditation right?

Read up on some gripping hardback.

 

Tap into our passions. Get to know you.

What tickles our hearts and makes us smile.

 

So, I start to write.

 

I write like I’ve never written before.

Bleeding hearts and weeping ink transfer

onto unlined paper. The purple letters

appear like magical little peoples telling

their late night campfire stories.

 

So, tell me about your heart. What makes it sing?

Are you humming to the tune of your own beat?

 

And this is how it is. We love ourselves, more.

Anyone else is like the icing on the cake, but not the cake.

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