The Only Love That Is Meant To Be Is The Love You Share With Yourself


When you experience a love that was meant to be, it feels like it was written in the stars. Formed in the cosmos, and sent to this galaxy, thick with moon dust and enchantment. Just waiting to set fire to two souls, using the Earth’s magnetic pull to collide two separate worlds.

And that’s what we had. A fate that brought two people together on a crowded beach in the tropics. Falling for each other the moment honey spilled from their lips, in the form of a name.

You had a smile that rivaled the Hawaii sun, and jet black curls that bounced right above dark brown eyes. I had never seen another human being so beautiful. And I never felt more alive, than when my legs were tangled up in yours, on soft white sand, under a Kailua moon.

And the island played her part in it all. Using her salty air, and blue waters to put us in a trance. Getting lost in her jungle, and stealing kisses deep in her green mountains.

I can still hear your laugh. Through sips of beer, over sticky rice and mangoes. And I could have watched you talk with your hands for the rest of my life.

But not even an endless summer can last forever. And the Midwest was pulling me back.

An ocean stood between us. But I would have scaled mountains just to touch your hand. Because I craved your presence. In a way only a soul mate can, when it’s been displaced from its counterpart.

But the history you carried with you was heavy, and it disrupted our planets alignment. You didn’t see yourself the way my hazel eyes did. So you cracked me wide open, and carved the word broken into my chest.

Venom dripped from your tongue over empty beer cans, and you no longer used your hands for just speaking.

And I even loved you then. When your shame showed up in black and blue on my arms, and your presence was never guaranteed.

Now, you seem so far away. And that’s the problem with a destiny forged in the stars. They burn out. Shooting through the night sky, hot and fast, and fizzling out beyond the eyes reach.

And sometimes I feel it in my chest. That we still dream the same dreams. My heart still beats for you, in some ways it always will. Even when I beg it to stop.

But I hope someday you are able to love yourself the way I always have. Because life is so short. And we will never make it out alive.

So the person who holds our hand through the journey, who wakes up next to us every morning, and kisses us goodbye when time decides its run its course, they are the meaning beyond the stars. And they will always be a galaxy away, if we don’t first learn to fall in love with ourselves.

Because the relationship you have with yourself is the only one that was guaranteed to be. It doesn’t burn out. It doesn’t fade away. It is the foundation in which all other love stems from.

And I hope I find you again someday. In whatever form that may be. Whether during this moon, or in another phase. Until then,

I’ll love myself.