“Why Do You Love Me?”

At first, I might’ve said something like,

“Because of how you make me feel,”

‘Cuz I do make decisions that way,

Despite the reckless appearance,

Everything I do is for a reason -

Feeling made me do it.

Growing up, I miserably misidentified,

Hindsight honorably showed me,

I could feel the person next to me - fine -

Just mistook their stuff as mine,

Karma stuck in mirrors, confined.

Little girl didn’t know how not to feel.

Me, I didn’t know.

Now I know,

“Oh, I didn’t know myself from them.

People felt about me, and it was theirs,

Quickly taken as my own, though,

Reflecting a complete lack of

Self, nowhere to be found.

Theirs was all that I could feel.”

Until, lives later, unfettered and free,

Vibrating at my own frequency, joyfully,

Wanting to let you into me, I did.

X = sharing what's mine with you.

Your questions miss the point thereof -

Zip your lips and feel my love.