When will this end?
This constant longing for reassurance
that I alone am enough.
This constant need to feel loved unconditionally,
to be told I am wanted and worth so much.
To see the yearning in your gaze,
To feel the shivers when you're near,
To make my heart pit-a-pating
every time you’re here.
When will this end?
This being too masculine and alpha,
because I did not get that princess treatment.
This being too vulnerable and needy,
because I always have to ask—
love not freely given.
I blame myself for this.
I rushed us.
Perhaps I forced you—
perhaps you only gave in, just because.
I have to bear with it,
for this emptiness cannot be healed by you.
And maybe… it was never yours to mend—
this hollow I carried
long before you.
An ache I buried deep within,
a love I kept begging for
from someone
I chose not to call in.