Staring back at me in the mirror
Dry weary eyes and high cheek bones that pair with a long and narrow head that headbands always despise

Skin and bones
Blood and nerves
Blue eyes and glasses
Brown and curly hair

Scars tell the stories of her past
A rock when she was four
Her grandmother's iron when she was six
The rickety banister
The church pews
The sticky track she was fifteen
Anything can leave a scar
Just some scars are more noticeable than others

But it's not just the scars-it's the calluses and bruises
The birth marks and the wrinkles
Her nails that will never stop peeling
Her calluses from bearing the hopes and dreams upon her shoulders
Her ****** noses from a softball or the cold thin air

When she walks you can see her muscles tensing
You can see the bruises on her shins-they're glaring reminders of her past
Her poise is not perfect but neither is her teeth, hair, face, skin
Its her imperfections that make her perfect

Her way of making people smile when they're down
She always finds something to complain about even though she tries so hard not to
Interruption is part of her daily struggle-inside her brain and out
Her work ethic could be a little better but she scrapes by
Her brothers can tell you she despises being late and she can be a bit bossy
The worry lines on her forehead tell you that she's tossing a question around and around her head trying to look at it in all angles before making up her mind

She also cries and wants someone to tell her she is beautiful over and over again
But when she needs to hear it most, her love might forget to tell her

She is always cautious of this-she doesn't want to give herself to someone who will break all of her hopes and dreams inside her heart in one foul swoop
but she tends to daydream about her wedding

What will her dress look like
Who will her bridesmaids be
Who will  her husband be
Who will she dance with
She knows she can't dance and she wonders what her father daughter dance will be like
Will it be like when she was little dancing on his toes?

College is always on her mind and when it isn't, her parents are always reminding her
Ask your sister about the SAT
Memorize your vocab
Don't forget about the AP U.S. history exam
You have to start now
Make sure you read the history textbook
Work harder
You will have to study new material since your teachers aren't adequate
Your math grade needs to go up
Why aren't you studying?
Why didn't you start this over the weekend?
You need to work if you want to get into a good college

When I look at this girl in the mirror and I slowly realize that she is me
I raise my grubby hand to touch my smooth face to double check

Her throat is tight
She can't speak
She can't breathe

I want to tell her that it will be alright
Your friends will stick with you
You will get into your dream college and you will find a husband and live happily ever after

But I can't see the future

I stare at this girl who loves her friends
Who loves to run so fast she forgets to breathe
Who tries so hard to pay attention in class when all she wants to do is scribble poems in the margins of her notes
Who bites her lip when she does something wrong or gets nervous
Who blushes at all the memories when she's gone against the grian

And I want to tell her that she will turn out alright

But I can't

Midnight
Is my favorite kind of night
Even the dead is asleep
There is no witching hour at
Midnight
The wind has picked up
The trees are kissing
The moon is high
and glowing giving light to life that doesn't exist at
Midnight
The righteous sleeps alongside the wicked at
Midnight
as I lie awake

It's the evil that made me
The sins that shape me
This world is crazy
But, ya know, so are we

A very famous man once said
My reality is brighter than your dreams are
On top of the world, so joyously triumphant
I never in a million years would have dreamed
That I could somehow relate

But with every moment I spent
Holding you tight to my chest
Every kiss of your lips
Your fingers tracing down my neck
I began to understand
What it was like to know Love
The sweetest of happiness
God's Gift from above

In life I've never been an optimist
Conditioned to expect the worst
But with you around it is easy
To see that life isn't meant to hurt
Times do change, things do gets better
We can grow and we can learn
With you by my side darling
I'm on top of the world

Before I begin, allow me to explain,
I too loved.. once,
so think of me not as some cynic-
nor as a master in the ways of love-
but rather as a keen observer-
now, that may mean I have nothing to offer you-
no insider knowledge-
no secrets of love-

But I do  know how to tell a true love story -

Interested?
Fantastic-
So let’s begin,

True love, if there is such a thing at all,
is like the thread that makes the cloth
you can’t tease it out-
you can’t extract meaning-
without ending up deeper in the web-
and it always remains-
hidden under layers -

In the end, that’s all you can really say about any
True love story-
They don’t generalize-
They don’t analyze-
They arent found-
They just… happen.

and that’s what makes them “true.”

But what is this coveted “love” -
the emotion?-
the act?-
the mentality?-

Love, is a constant state of illusionment-

A collective agreement amongst humans-
that it, whatever it may be,  can be treated as an excuse
for recklessness, irrationality, and misplaced strife-  

A quid pro quo  between two individuals-
to agree that they are doing something-
anything-
other than mindlessly drudging through life-

Now that is not to say that what love creates is pointless-
I said before, I have felt the embrace of love
Love festers between individuals for so long
it has no option-
but to mould the physical to itself-
and alter our personalities-

Characterized by spontaneity-
by indulgence-
by risk-
to love is the most dangerous experience in existence-
the act of being fully vulnerable with another-
while promising not to hurt them the same-

Love is characterized by vulnerability-
and the constant fear of being hurt-

So you want to know how to write a true love story?
be honest-
dwell not on the “romantic” blindfolds that keep us irrationally seeking our partners-
dwell not on the on the memories of a love that blossomed-
reveal the core of love -

A true love story comes from gut instinct-
A true love story, comes from experience.
A true love story, if truly told, makes the stomach believe

So I said I loved once,
allow me to elaborate-

I too have felt the “butterfly stomach”
- where the insides of the lovestruck turn on their host and manifests the emotional significance of meeting “the one”

I too have spent the day daydreaming...
-Lost in the thought of “the one”, seeking brief breaks from reality in my mind between moments of  utter normalcy

I too have melted into a puddle of emotion….
-lying next to “the one” as we slowly spill more and more of the secrets that bound us as individuals, joining a spirit much larger than ourselves-

I too have felt... invincible-
-to know that I’ve found something more significant than myself. Something that replaces the fear of the future.. and makes it something to look forward to.

Yes, I too have fallen in love.
and I did just that-
I fell.





..And that is my true love story-