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before I do
She says she likes me, yet I don't like myself
I've yet to be the man of my dreams, yet such to aspire
Not one to keep promises to himself
The one without peace behind his eyes, an unquenched fire.
Waking up unproud of the way of life, wishing to go higher
Yet she likes who I am, while I ache for who I could be,
And some days, that gap feels like failure, a longing to rewire
She sees a light I've yet to earn by my own standards, I can't retire
Perhaps that's what love truly is, a quiet conspire,
Not to wait for someone to arrive, not only for when things are dire,
But believing in them while still on their way, like building an empire
Maybe becoming isn't about being ready first, no need to perspire
Becoming is rising, its chasing desire,
for Someone who sees who you fully before yourself, are the true inspire
May be the best motivation to become what they know you are; you may now retire.
Copyright ©
david frye
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