So What is this Ache that makes me Centre You?

The afterthought of you is stale and gaping.

I don’t like what it means to like myself.

Honouring yourself is lonely,

There is an inevitable comedown,

Putting yourself first creates space, pedestalling even and I never wanted to be on top I thought you would walk across to me, Like you said you would.

I met a man who did not know how to love me, he did not know what he put his hand out to love, he did not care to see it, he did not care, he did not care, what is this ache that makes me centre you?

Where is my fullness, my celebration for honouring, where is my energy?

How dare this honour come with lashings of you?

The cherry on top, truth to say, I never even wanted you.

So what is this ache that makes me centre you?