The comfort of my insignificance was a home before my home with you; a safe-house,
I was queen to my own realm, unknown to others, but it mattered not, I was free.
You entered through my gate, a silver tongued whirlwind, and turned my home around,
My footing became loose as I realised that upon you I relied for my own reason to be.
I became that which I was not, hoping that your eyes would settle upon my efforts,
The decor, the embellishments, which all meant nothing, became my path to you.
Your every smile, an approval of my reflection, became my drive, and you my purpose,
I was finally something, anything, to someone – your lies became my war paint.
Unseen to my eyes, the jewels became shackles, which bound me to you; your slave,
The silken robes, adorned with crystals, were the bars to my cell in the prison called ‘You’.
My powdered face, a jesters mask, there to please you in hope that you stay,
Began to melt, ink stains bruising my flesh, when it all became nothing – I was no longer something.
Once I had thought that my drowning self-confidence, a result of years of self neglect,
Was the consequence of my failure to love me, and to see my reflection as true.
I was told I need a good heart and mind to feel worthy; but of what I do not know,
I would be the best me I could be, and yet it was never enough, not for you, not for me.
What I know now as sweet lies, your compliments, lifted me to a level beyond what I’d known,
The spotlight burned fierce, through your eyes, and melted me easily into your hands.
I see now – I am something, anything, to someone, to me; I am beyond worthy,
For it was you who planted the seeds of insecurity, I sowed; I liberate myself from your strings.
© Naziyah Mahmood, 2014.
(Image taken from http://kodih.deviantart.com)