We spend a lovely time together,

you and me.

Hands clasped, skin sun-dappled,

I never lose sight of you

walking amongst the trees.

We lay in a grassy meadow where

you point out a speckled sparrow,

the sweet tang in the breeze.

I’d forgotten

how much you relish

nature’s warm embrace.

I count the drifting bees

amid swaying daffodils,

pick out silly shapes

in the clouds while

your laughter floats high,

a medley in the sky.

We picnic by a stream,

letting the cold rush over our toes.

The afternoon flies by

filled with flower crowns, love notes,

even a few unfiltered selfies

(you’re beautiful just as you are).

Your mind runs wild with

thoughts and reflections on life,

philosophy, your dreams, the unknown,

making me fall even deeper

for the parts of you I never knew.

As evening paints a rose-gold blush

we head back, contented and shy,

unwilling to divide

our conjoined hearts,

unwilling to say goodbye.

With the rising of the stars,

a realization dawns: I’m only recently

getting to know the you inside,

and I’m irrevocably in love;

I think you feel the same.

So without delay, we plan away

for our next date

in the course of this

burgeoning relationship

and it’s certain now we’ve

reached a new understanding.

We’ve seen a different face of each other;

we’ve seen our future life as one,

and we’re two sides of the same soul.

Now I know without a doubt,

I’d never pass up the chance for

a date with you, my lovely self.

With starlight clarity, I know

I won’t forgo the chance to spend

my life with you, my beautiful self.

Sylvia Plath said, I eat men like air. If only oxygen burned that sweet. I didn't eat them, I choked on them. Men are elusive, one text away from changing the dynamic of your relationship.

Let's be friends, they say. Or, I'm seeing someone else. Words that seep into bandaids, words as cutting as knife on stone.

It's important to remember - god, I hate saying that in my writing, completely redudant if the point is made well - that we need to practice self love. These men come and go, but you: you are forever existing in the universe you call home, the lighthouse that stays on forever as you breathe.

It's hard to let go, find the space in yourself to say, I'm okay.

The scales I used to worship, the dieting, the mental subterfuge - it all led to hell. I existed in a torture vacuum, one where men defined who I was. If I was in a relationship, as tenuous as it was (and it always was(, I was whole. As whole as an orange, ripe and sweet as you tear off the skin.

Self love takes many forms, starting with self care. Hot baths, chocolate cake, yoga. Perhaps these are all things we do on Valentine's Day, the day of the year celebrating social media posts of two month anniversaries. It's imporant to remember (again, the redundancy(, that you profit from a fulfilling, intimate relationship with yourself first.

They say that you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else. I don't think this is true, but the sentiment exists, as fully as you and me, unlike any text message sent across the barriers we should separate from.

May you look in the mirror and at least know what you see, even if you don't like it.

Because knowing who you are is the first step to self love.

Treasure what is on the inside rather than what is on the outside.

Nobody knows you like you know yourself and nobody said that self love would be easy.

So don't whelve your insecurties, because they're just bound to come flowing out all at once.

Everyone else has their own insecurties and they're all fighting their own battles.

So focus on you and let your mind wander free from doubts, and free of a timorous fear that everyone is waiting for you to fail.

The words that you say to yourself could never be said out loud.

Speak to yourself in a way that you would speak to those you love.

Dont lock yourself in a brumous daze, look to the sun for a blissful day.

Spend time with those who lift you up and treasure your soul.

With each passing day as you improve your self worth,

you will continue to blossom, like a beautiful flower, a flower that nobody noticed until she blossomed. Not for the world but for herself.

Yes, I love myself.

Plain and simple, straight to tbe point.

I am the hardest working person I know. I believe in myself and in other people. I’m realistic about life. I know I will die one day, one day soon if we keep letting adolescents in Politics. Yes, I know I have sinned, but haven’t we all? But it’s knowing what to say when you are asked that question is the key. There is only one person you have to give the answer to. Everyone else is irrelevant. Yes, I love myself, faithfully.