Self Love Poems - Poems about Self Love

If hearts were sold in the market, People would stand in queue Fighting for buying the good one Without realising that the best in the world is inside them. -Thaqiya/lazybirdnest ...

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they smoked weed to feel loose swore the arts told the truth but she was the deepest sleeper stay in bed not a morning creature with the finest of features cheek bones were deep cuts like the ribs of Jesus eyes like Venus deep pools of blue that'll leave you speechless find a subtle glint within like her eyes held a secret she wasn't a diva she just believed self...

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~top student ~excelling ~prudent ~compelling whispered those words sweet my soul adored my heart “gold” yet in reality...

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Consistency is key isn't it not? Then why does it feel like a chore rather than a reward? Nobody gives you a road map on life So why are there so many pressures from wrong to right? Inconsistency has been a part of my whole life Whether I knew it or not But that's the thing Little girls and little boys are...

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The most constant romance the one with yourself The most lasting friendship the mirror defines The most sacred promise only yours to break The most valued feelings — your treasure inside (The New Room: February, 2025) ...

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I learned to whisper to myself when the world crumbled, when silence stretched its wings, wrapping me in a tender nothing that felt too much like being forgotten. I once feared the cracks, those jagged, sharp breaths that split me open like fault lines shaking beneath unsteady hands. I thought they would swallow me whole, those wounds that bled into the earth like rain, vanishing into...

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I am, neither an angel nor a wicked monster, But a beautiful creation of God, a radiant soul, With qualities of head and heart, with foibles and flaws And with a personality and mindset, unique. Once I used to feel so inadequate, trying to fake Comparing myself with others and seeing only my scars In those times, I found my...

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For years I'd written myself notes with names of some I can't remember. Those I've cheered; stood and applauded. Protagonists who played Romeo to my Juliet. Shakespeare would've lauded. Scribbles that should've been love letters that would've made me a better person. There were more than a few endearing roles, romantic ones, comedies and life's dramas. Names that have faded on the playbills. Sometimes I...

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“The hardest challenge is to be yourself in a world where everyone is trying to make you be somebody else.” E.E Cummings ************************************************************** ...

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Into the void I'm screaming The echo returns not No response, even to my breathing An echo returns not You used to be my mirror A reflection I have not You've gone to someone dearer My reflection I have lost Am I numb to all five senses? A ghost alone I wander You've left me in all tenses A ghost alone I ponder ...

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SELF LOVE I finally emerged from my hypnotic state When I’d been scribbling notes to myself Back in the room was quite a shock to me Being both in and out of a kind of fantasy Yet I do recall doubting my mental health But then saw just what I was told to create A letter to myself written in my own...

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*“The evil that man do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones;” Shakespeare in Julius Caesar Self Love Time has now dawned to start loving myself After...

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I adorn myself with petals and words of affirmation Softly spoken over the temple I reside in A home that has been burnt down more times that I can count Walls crashing all around me A fragile foundation I’ve uprooted and moved Unearthed the ground beneath my vessel Stripped away old wounds that have been plastered...

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My glass heart is empty It’s been cracked and filled and cracked and filled. I know your eyes as I know mine to cry You beautiful, cracked thing. It’s been too many years to count and care Love and memories will carelessly fall from your hair. “I love you” I wish to say, as you say only to the people around...

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Where was I? unusual. behind the dizzying looking glass, cement block, panelled windows, noonish saloons sipping my loathing like mosquitoes milking stone veins constipated. contemplating pretty suspects and their banditry of spotlight and shadows; cute fashions with their dreamboat accessories. Snatched away! Who was I? a deserted quotient. All of me, crumbs sucking thumbs, snorting baby powder, perfumed by heaven's hope, resisting hunger and...

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