When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.

This is the fifth dream I have dreamed with him in it. Been going on all week. I am not even thinking of him that much. The ****, just woke up. I was making a conscious effort not to think of him in the dream even.
In the dream, my Biology teacher also teaches us about a pollen mix called abocoptus. I googled abocoptus to see if the dream is a sign. It is not a real word thank god.

I have hair on my legs that I need to get rid of.
But before that I also need to fall in love.

There was always at least five feet between us. It was actually a good thing in the preliminary stage. We could lock eyes without the urgent need to look away too soon. The intensity was containable in those five feet.

(speaks very fast) And then my stupid self went around and quickly covered four of those five feet. It is the laws of mitotic cell division god ******. You do not grow four feet in a day. You grow inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter. Ask him about that literature assignment. Shakespeare is responsible for excess glutton in today’s pick up lines. Wait for your friends to dare him to kiss you on a Truth and Dare. Wait for him to want to. Then, tell him, maybe, I like you.

That, in that one foot perimeter, I could see golden flakes in the circles of his eyes when clearly they are brown should have been the first sign that it was a bad idea. Five feet was our perimeter. Five feet was where we stopped. (points to own body) Five feet is where I stop.

For, I will never be anyone else but me. I will never experience, firsthand at least, what it is like to be a lanky six footer who hunches because she doesn't know what to do with her body. Or her exhilaration when she finds the basketball court. I will never experience being the Egyptian boy who has a chemistry counter in his kitchen, who asks his maid to buy him potassium nitrate. I won't know what it is like to be his maid who almost got arrested for asking to buy potassium nitrate (a component of explosives) in Egypt.  I shall never experience courting like the characters in a Jane Austen novel. And how nice it must feel, feeling beautiful.

And I will never ever experience, what it is like to be his girlfriend.

I come out no stronger
when a poem is all over.

come down to earth on broken wing
words gone dry heart bleeding
with me not even making a beginning!

When a poem is done
it tells me
you've not yet begun
not done your part
and still stuck at the start!

I come out no stronger
when a poem is over.

the mind for sometimes hover
falls down with broken wing
words gone dry heart bleeding
with me not even making a beginning!

When a poem is done
it tells me
I'm left undone
mere ink on paper without a soul,
when one more dream of mine you stole.

Not all men are poets

some come home to play cards
banter with wife
ask what's for dinner made
head for bed.

they don't bother to think deep
don't string emotions into written words
are ever joyful with a game of cards
nights lend them quite good sleep.

they don't dabble in poetry
going beyond is not their cup of tea.

Not all men are poets
they need not be
without it they have enough to keep

gift of a day night's peaceful sleep!