I am commonly told
that I must desire to spend the rest of my life
with myself first.
And those words,
meant to tie my esteem together,
rather tore my motivation apart.
I look in the mirror,
and see someone that I am learning to love,
but only to love in this moment.
I make promises with that reflection,
to love the tangles in her hair
and the messes on her floor,
and in return she promises
that the messes and tangles
will be straightened out in the morning.
I love those blonde chaotic locks
but I hope to see them grey,
and her outlandish decisions
bring a chuckle to my thoughts,
but I couldn't love her well enough
if she never trades them in for sense.
I have divorced all of the different people
that I used to be.
Each time taking what was mine,
and destroying what was theirs,
just as I had done at the heartbreaking end
of any of my other toxic relations.
I don't wish to spend the rest of my life
because years from now,
I think I can do much better than her,
much better than me.