A Love Letter to Self-Love

Dear self-love,

Your cousins, sisters, brothers all outshine you
Eros, Agape, Filia, Storge, just to name a few
But out of all the people in your family
Only you have ever left an impression on me; you see,

No language in the world does justice to your name
No culture that romanticizes the warmth of your flames
Oh, am I the only one that yearns for your existence,
The only one overpowered by your silent presence?

Thank you for taking care of me when no one else did
Chanced meetings in dark places, how ironic, isn’t it?
How much I crave you when you’re away,
And yet, underestimate you whenever you stay.

Why not seek glory and fame like the others?
Yet, I’m thankful, for your humility has pushed me farther
It is selfish of me to have you to myself, but am I
To be blamed when all else has seen you, and without a pause, simply passed by?

But oh, you have taught me what love meant, and
It was giving what you have without bargaining for your end
I want to have you as mine, to close all our distance
Such sentiments will defeat your purpose, an insult to your existence

And so – an open letter
For the curious, the wounded, those who yearn to feel better
For those who still look for solace in their own embrace
For those whose shadows save them from grace

A Love Letter to Self-Love

I love the dimples in your smile

The tiny wrinkles of your eyes

The way you frown while grinning

when explaining something amazing that frustrates you


I love how childish you can be sometimes

How your laugh bubbles from your chest

How you never take your eyes off mine

when explaining something I love more than you


But out of all the things I love about you

Do I love you?

To you, my not-Valentine

I wonder
Does your breathing change when we’re at proximity
Do your eyes linger a little longer when you look at mine?
Is your hand afraid of touching me
The way mine always does, every single time?

I wonder
Has your heart ever twisted in pain?
Have your lips quivered a little before speaking?
Is your soul afraid to touch mine, afraid to maime,
That is why you stick to dreaming?

I wonder
How much do you even think of me?
Do you even think of me at all?
Is it even worth it knowing,
when I’ve already made the fall?

I wonder
Why do I always chase the ones ahead
When they do not even turn to see?
They didn’t hear what I just said,
“Why do I not look at the one looking at me?”

To you, my not-Valentine