like an old willow tree, denizen to the land
forlorn, always seen but never approached
and when they come, they never stay
preferring the majesty of that Angel-Oak over yonder
or the iridescent magnificence of the Japanese maple
They all leave you behind
Yet they want you to be there when they return
reaching for your willowy caress
whilst inside, you weep with loneliness
forever comforting, never comforted
The perks of a willow. To stand for everyone and yet remain alone, to find joy in another’s happiness but never in your own.
Is this a curse or a blessing? At what point is being selfish the right thing to do?
And what is the difference between being selfish and having self-love?