So apparently today is National Compliments Day.
I'd like to compliment Maha Salman.
She is a genuinely caring soul and has such a loving heart and an understanding personality.
Maha, thank you for being such a kind person and listening to me despite my extreme negativity. Thank you for talking me out of starving myself again, and being so compassionate. You mean a lot to me as a fellow poet and person. You are a beautiful friend :)
p.s. ur poetry is amaaazing
It's crazy when you realize that one simple compliment can do so much.
It can make someone smile,
or even make their day.
It could make them like you,
when they were pushing you away.
You could be walking down the sidewalk
and notice someone looking ready to quit.
You go over and say,
"I love your outfit - every bit!"
For all you know, he was planning to end it all that day.
Luckily you were there,
You noticed his dismay.
Maybe, just maybe,
you made him rethink.
Maybe you're the reason he caught his wife's first wink.
I never know how to react
when he says the things he does.
Whether I just woke up,
or as I'm getting ready to fall asleep,
he randomly compliments me.
Sometimes it's about the way
he likes how my hair falls in my face.
Others it's about my eyes,
or about my smile.
Sometimes when it gets quiet,
I randomly start humming or singing
the songs that have been playing over in my head.
That's when he tells me he loves my voice.
I've never had someone love
all of the things I tend to hate about myself.
He points out my flaws
and sees them as perfections.
I never thought I could ever feel loved,
or love someone this much.
But I do feel loved,
and I love him with everything I am.
When you tried to give me a compliment I always turn the cheek
Batting it away like it doesn't belong to me
That my hair is too frizzy for you to like it
My eyes too blue for your brown
My legs are elegant but they are marked with my disappointment
The purple and the blue will never go away
Yes, the bruises will slowly heal but by the time one problem is resolved another sapling and will slowly take root and show it's colors
You say my heart is made to heal
But I can't find it
It's buried so deep I can't hear it keeping time to my life song
It's crushed under all my self downs and worries
In that hollow it grows
Like a new bud
And one day it will turn into a flower
My response to your comment is lost on my tongue
It is somewhere tucked inside my conscience
Playing hide and seek with the directions on how to talk to boys and how to give an oral report without turning red
And I'm the seeker
You tell me I'm beautiful
But I can't hear you
The voices taunting me inside my head are too loud for your soft voice
Arguing about which way right
When I find my answer it seems as if the time has already left
You are already heading off in the other direction
Leaving me stumbling over my daydreams and expectations
Trying to get a grasp on what's ethical
I always forget to say thank you
It's sort of a bad habit
I'm always too worried about what will happen if I say something wrong
If I'll turn you away
I want you to know that I want you to stay
Stay close and hug me when I need it
So I can help you through your hardships
And carry each other's hopes and dreams upon our shoulders
You will be the soldier of my heart
Guarding the gates for all of the knights in shining armor that aren't noble enough to be my Prince Charming
I’ve been conditioned
like freshly washed hair
do not offend
unless the end of the sentence is “im sorry”
let the shoes and boots and heels of many make indents on you
like blueprints of demurity swaddled in insecurity
kept alive by the blurry ideas i once held about femininity
because i couldn't be a girl if the words that flew from my chords
were anything but rosy
ring around the Josie, pockets full of suppose he was to compliment your tits
when walking down a thorough-fair
busy people back and forth and grandmas with wrinkled sweaters
muttered from chapped lips and an even more chapped psyche
why must i keep my wits about to not risk making him angry
that was not complimentary but i am fearful he might spit my words back onto me
in the form of fists and slurs and honestly
of being the sidewalk beneath the feet of creeps
i am the sky and the trees and the moon
but i do not speak with the wisdom of travelling seeds
i speak with the warmth and subtlty of freshly microwaved milk
like soft silk i wish i could tatter
i wish venom soaked words could be spit in response to your “compliments”
but i would rather let you diminish me for the few moments it takes to objectify me
than to risk angering your inner beast and suffering the consequences of meninism or masculinism
whatever the word is this week
i will not be another number
ink soaked paper red with the monthly bloodshed of the sisters
every second is another unspeakable act
i see women
with tongues as round and large as planets
and tonsils the size of solar systems
birthing new galaxies in the words they speak
and shooting comets like fiery balls of comebacks
when that slack-jawed fool sat and wished and drooled
into his monthly issue of mens rights magazine
she tore down the even minuscule belief he could have had that he had the right to comment on her body
in three seconds his pride, and entitlement
shifted into shame
and i envy these women
because the only time i can take back my power
is when i am standing in front of a room
speaking rhymes and metaphors preaching independence and strength
to a group of people who now think i am a hero
i am not a hero
i put my shoes on one foot at a time
and i still manage to forget a couple days of birth control here and there
and i cant stand up for myself
in the moments after an attack i retreat into my latte and pray today will not be the day the male dominated society takes my power away
because i am small
and though i am growing every day
i still can only pray
that one way or another
i will be able to be as strong a woman as my sisters
and take back my power
and speak not with the beauty of a flower
but with the sharpness of a bumblebees sting
and one more thing
are not complimentary