my kind of guy is quiet, sort of,
my kind of guy wears long-sleeve striped shirt,
my kind of guy has voice so warm and encouraging it makes me feel brave,
my kind of guy listens to ed sheeran and sam smith and knows i love kelly clarkson,
my kind of guy wears black shoes on daily basis like a charm,
my kind of guy gives me a bottle of water when i was dehydrated without i even realized,
my kind of guy saves the hardest thing for himself,
my kind of guy sacrifices his own freedom for a friend,
my kind of guy is ambitiously calming,
my kind of guy babbles non-sense and laughs at his own jokes,
my kind of guy receives a scholarship and is an internal field coordinator at student council,
my kind of guy loves to listen to people like it's the bestest thing to do,
my kind of guy has the kindest eyes and smile so endearing, the kind of smile that doesn't take away your breath but grows the even bigger smile on your face,
my kind of guy is him,
my kind of guy is the kind of guy
i don't deserve.
she was just a usual college girl at a glance,
look closer and you will see how her eyes dead
her lips dry with wounds all over and they are still red
one day she took a writing class because
she had nowhere to go
there was this one time the white-haired guy
with fatherly smile who called himself a professor,
raised one of the students' work and complimented
the suicide ending of the main character
he read it and she thought how it was true,
but then everyone started writing about
depression and self-loathing and
biting your lips
clawing your cheeks
and ended with someone's hanging or choking in pills
she asked one of them who had written so,
'have you ever stood over a bridge
and your legs just felt like they were
going to betray you and every ounce of faith
you ever had in everything you thought you believed in?'
when she saw the strange look pointed at her,
she knew she was talking to a wrong person.
tell them about our first meeting and how you told me i had you at hello. tell them that you saw the wall surrounding me and how I foolishly let you in. tell them about the meetings between traffic lights and wrapped sandwiches. tell them about how I held onto you like I’ve never seen hope before. tell them i used to call you home. tell them you were once every story in my head.
tell them how you were always my first when i was only your second best. tell them how you broke me when i thought i couldn't be more broken than i already was. tell them how I believed you and how you deceived me. tell them about how you told me your favorite colour was white, and how I thought how lovely it was, never realized that it was also the color of your lie when you promised me you will stay.
tell them, you old, sick joke, that for once I thought you loved me.
tell them, and they will know that these rummaging, angry, raging, words are all about you. they will know I pour every scar you’ve left into these words, these last words I pull for you. they will know you were both the hero and the villain. they will know I was a damsel in distress who saved herself. they will know I survived. I always will.
there's this girl, her name is felicia,
and she is not afraid to love with all she might,
to fall over and over again,
to get hurt and to be misunderstood,
to be pushed away by the circumstances she is not aware.
i tell her she is stupid, wasting her time, and that she deserves better;
but still the only time she cries is because he cries.
there's this guy, his name is derio,
tells me he knows nothing about love, or how to win a girl heart,
but i witness him giving his drink to her,
pats her back after their group presentation,
shows me what he writes and how i notice he engraves
every single thing about her in words,
how he makes a playlist contains songs about her
and how she makes him feel.
there's this girl, her name is nadya,
her love is the love that is so pure and innocent,
that even when he is miles away she tells me she senses his presence.
she draws him paintings, consist of pastel colors, and i ask her why;
she says it brings calmness to every storm.
i will look up at her history chat, being a protective friend that i am;
and i notice how fast she responds,
showering him with the attention he never have.
there's this guy, his name is andre,
and the way he talks about her, i assure you,
even the star constellations will envy the spark in his eyes.
his wallpaper is green, and i joke a lot about it;
how it shows that he is a capitalist, how it looks like he just puke on it,
but he shrugs it all off; tells me it is her favorite color.
there's this girl, her name is clara,
never going anywhere without a book in her hand,
sometimes she will surprise me with midnight chats
contains her crying over a fictional character and how unfair the ending is,
she has this web-page where she writes the unsent letters
to every character she is in love with.
she has a personal blog where she makes each of them
another story, another ending.
there's this guy, his name is elliot,
a head division of an event i am contributed in,
and between the meetings that goes almost overnight,
he insists to walk her to the train station even if she never ask to.
he tells me it is not because he think she is weak and can't protect herself,
he says it is because she is precious.
and then there is me;
of all kind of love they show,
of all kind of love they grow,
for sometimes it is easy to love
but hard to remember
how beautiful and endearing it is.
to my future children, if ever i have them;
if ever i grow you up, i hope you'd let me listen to your playlist
so i'd know what you are feeling, and what kind of songs that soothes you,
for i know letting your feeling out by words is as hard as writing on the water
if ever i grow you up, i hope you'd let me know what book you read recently;
so i'd know what kind of world you wish to escape,
for i might have the chance to make it nearer,
if ever i grow you up, please, please, i beg you;
to not cry alone in the corner of your room, knowing no one cares
and wishing the cold wall to swallow you down
or for someone to come and stab you in the back so that all your pain would gone,
if ever i grow you up, my dear,
i hope you'd come to me to cry, or at least;
i hope you let me in into your room,
i hope you wouldn't be someone who's ashamed of your tears
because it's not shameful, sweetheart, it's a proof that you're a human,
and there's nothing wrong with that.
if ever i grow you up, i hope you're going
to be someone who is not afraid of birthdays and new years,
and if you're afraid of dark and crowds;
know that it's okay to accept that, to be afraid of them;
because everyone is afraid at something.
if ever i grow you up, i hope you know i will never
ask you to be someone you think you can't be;
because i want you to be happy, so be it, be anything you want;
a bee keeper, kindergarten teacher, florist;
happiness is not that simple to be found, and sometimes
trying to fulfill everyone expectation will not get you anywhere.
and i hope, if ever you think you are not enough,
know that you're always enough, sweetheart;
you are my kid and that's more than enough.