I thought no one would ever love, after everything I've been through love is something I don't value nor believe, after all the pain—I never imagined anyone could love someone like me.
Someone like me, with so many wounds and scars. From childhood to my adolescence, I've carried the wounds of yesterday; wounds that, if others knew, they would leave me and suddenly distance themselves.
So I never once dreamed that someone would come along to make me feel loved, that I was important, that I had value, and that I was worth fighting for.
Smiling, I picked up my pen and turned the page of my notebook. I didn't know why, but my hand started writing on its own. A smile played on my lips as my hand continued to write.
My smile widened even more when I read the first stanza of what I had written.
I'm not that pretty, not a sight to see,
But still, somehow, you cherish me.
My skin's not flawless, smooth, or bright,
Yet in your arms, I feel so right.
There's so much beauty around, but I can't understand what you saw in me to be so captivated. Even so, I'm grateful, because you've never once made me feel inadequate—that there was someone better than me.
I'm not the type they call a prize,
Still, you see magic in my eyes.
I'm not rich, nor dressed in gold,
But still, your love is strong and bold.
Sometimes I ask myself, my beauty isn't worth for show, it's not a trophy that the likes of you would love to display. But even so, you never made me feel that way. You're proud to shout to the world that you love me. So, I did really judged you harshly. My insecurities kicked in, that I thought you wouldn't be proud to have me.
I'm not the calm, well-mannered kind,
My moods are wild, I speak my mind.
Yet you stay through every storm and fight,
Holding me close, loving me right.
I'm not conventionally beautiful, but I often try to present myself beautifully. Something you always supported, always telling me how beautiful I am, excessively so. I'm not even consistently beautiful, and my moods change frequently. But even so, your love never changed. You broadened your understanding and loved me even more.
How can someone like you be mine?
So patient, pure, almost divine.
You make me ask if this is real,
Do I deserve the way you feel?
You're too perfect to be true, but every time our hands touch, every time you hold my hand—this is real, no joke... you really are mine.
But every time I start to doubt,
You find a way to point it out,
That love, to you, is not a game,
And every flaw, you love the same.
Even the doubts I had before, you effortlessly erased them.
I may not know what I did right,
To earn your warmth, your softest light.
But I'm just thankful every day...
That you still choose to love me anyway.
"Love, let's go. We still have to go to church. We might get caught in traffic."
I turned to the one who called me, and I smiled at him, a smile he returned. As he smile, his eyes were also smiling. My beloved.
I don't need to ask, I don't need to demand, because there's no doubt. I am his, and he is mine.