“to love me,“
he said, his curls brushing my face
(it was windy that day;
his cheeks and nose were red;
his eyes were glittering,
an everforest green against white backdrop,
while my hands were warm in his,
cocoa steaming on the wooden table in front of us,
beanies and jackets long since hung,
snow tracks around the cabin,
while we kissed and he smoothed my hair,
when he realized i was crying
from the first time i ever saw the snow
in my long life),
“you have to love yourself first.“
“If you don’t love yourself,
the Script
you can love no one else”
Chaos of Life 