I want you to listen.
Me, Me, Me.
It’s a selfish disease.
A self-centered, self-loathing, self-depriving
self-centric, solipsistic sickness
that wraps up all of you-
or what’s left of you,
I know you’re inside.
Your stems are still there, cut down at the pistil.
These scissors of sickness plucked off your petals
your stamen, your sepals,
nipped you down to a nub.
But Dear Me,
I want you to listen, to hear this promise.
I’ll plant a new Me in the garden of you.
Let it grow, feed it food
Let my tears saturate in this soil of self-love
until those blades, those shears of fear are too dull
to tear you down.
And I’ll love the new Me
That’s grown from the old you
All of this always within us, within you
Within Me, Me, Me.