The I that was in love

I never knew what to make of love
It was always held in such high regard and even I burned for it...
But never knew what to make of it
I always interpreted it as a selfish act as my only conscious experience of it was others needing and demand through it.
"I love you because of the way you make ME feel"
"You don't love me because of what you don't give me"
I was the same. Would only say the words to keep them from walking away or simply to keep the peace.
When I actually felt nothing.
The ego too proud to admit I was nothing.
All my jokes, witty comments, my deep thoughts and words...
All simple reflections of a bruised ego...
A dying ego now deprived.
And as "I" - that was - gradually dies, love - that is - grows and pulsates like the deafening ring of the ears after a loud concert
The ache of an overworked body finally laying to rest
This is new love.
Love from me but outside of me.
Love who's only focus and concern is your happiness
Of your well being
Of your comfort and grace in the world
I no longer think of me when I think of you yet I am the happiest I've ever felt
about you

- Sleeps