He Loves Me

This was a poem I wrote after listening to “The Type” by Sarah Kay. Love is also something that I see everywhere I go, so I wrote my observations in a poem

“He Loves me”

When you find a significant other, here are some things to keep in mind

One: You are picking the petals off of a flower. “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…” you are going to end up on “he loves me not” every single time. You will destroy your mother’s flower garden and still not find the flower with the odd number of petals. You will throw thousands and thousands of them in the air, waiting to be caught by the wind, before you tear off one “he loves me”.

You will keep on going, because that petal wasn’t pretty enough. You refuse to accept that it’s your only “he loves me”. You keep on searching.

Two: Someday, you will finally stop on THE petal. The one you feel content with. Keep it. Keep it tucked in a notebook containing the secrets to your heart. Make it the key to your heart. Make sure the man you share them with has the exact same key.

Three: There will be so many men who will look at you like you are the missing link. You are the answer to that one question that they’ve been struggling with. Once you fill them in, they’re content.

It’s the other way around. Men should look at you like you are the question. You are a book filled with questions they need to fill in. They’ve got a box of pens sitting at their feet, waiting to be used up. They’ve only got so much correction tape, because not everything can be covered up and fixed. They will sit there filling you in until every single blank space is covered. Because they’re okay with sacrificing their time for you.

Four: When you moan about your problems to them for the millionth time, they’ll treat it as your first. They’ll give you new insight, rather than repeating the same advice for the millionth time. When you approach them sobbing your heart out over an incident years ago that you still haven’t gotten over, they’ll hold you close, wrap their arms around you, and squeeze you tight. They won’t say a thing, because they know that sometimes, silence is a better cure than words.



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