Painting by Lilia Mazurkevich

No matter how trivial or small,
There was always that urge
to correct,
to edit,
to enhance?
Their intentions weren’t bad or evil, you know.
They just thought that if I gave up this piece or that one I’d suit them better.

I’d make them happier,
on some occasions, I’d be easier to handle, maybe.

“Would you give up this dream?
Maybe this tiny obsession of yours?
Would you give up your life,
to be part of mine?”

Being so young and inexperienced in life I thought why not?
If it made us happier,
If it made them happier,
I would do it.

Love is sacrifice, right?
I think I took that too literally.
Because, to sacrifice this much, to sacrifice your identity,
That’s not love. That’s foolishness.

They never did the same anyway,
They never left tiny pieces of themselves on the side of the road upon my request.

Because I never asked and I would never have asked.
They didn’t have to give something away to be likeable,
to be loved.
Looking back at it,
Now after they’re gone,
I think that’s what ruined me.
Falling in love too hard,
too young.

Before I had any idea of who I am
or what matters most.
And not knowing makes giving everything up so easy.
Every once in a while, someone would ask
If I would change for them,
but I’ve learned my lesson.
Well, at least when they decide to leave,
I’ve got myself whole.

—

Poetry written by Huda Sobhy

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