Oct 2013
Darling, you can be anything you want to be.
Just pick yourself like a chocolate. Admire the red foil that engulfs your small fingertips with that smile you do as the caramel swims between your rose tinted lips.
Pick yourself like a flower, like that snow drop the fairies plant every February under the apple tree, or that single rose that pricked your finger, the red one you once gave me.
Be an astronaut and bring me back a star. Wrap it up like fish and chips and we can watch it shine when the time comes for you to kiss me goodnight for the last time. And I will appear, my sweetheart, in the place from which you plucked it from in that velvet patchwork quilt we call a sky, and I will watch you, always from afar.
Be a surgeon and find yourself the biggest heart. And when you do, let your darling love you and love your darling back. And when your darling hurts you, do not try to fix your broken heart with liquor or lust, but patience and promise, as your heart is the strongest ***** in your body. It keeps playing the most beautiful music when all else fails, and whatever God you choose my darling, he or she will listen to it always, even if that God you choose doesn't exist.
If neither these excite you, be an acrobatic swimmer and keep yourself afloat. Be a carpenter and build yourself a boat. Be an academic at Oxford and stand up and say 'I am a ******* academic at Oxford' and stick your finger up at Mrs Lewis down the road whose children have 'the potential' and gloat. Or be a mother like me, and know how to always make the world a whole better place with just a smile, a mothers grace.
But darling, if anything, just be you. As you are perfect. Not just perfect because you make the air dance with just a mere breath, or because you can sing the alphabet backwards, but because you are you.
Just pick yourself like a chocolate. Admire the red foil that engulfs your small fingertips with that smile you do as the caramel swims between your rose tinted lips.
Pick yourself like a flower, like that snow drop the fairies plant every February under the apple tree, or that single rose that pricked your finger, the red one you once gave me.
Be an astronaut and bring me back a star. Wrap it up like fish and chips and we can watch it shine when the time comes for you to kiss me goodnight for the last time. And I will appear, my sweetheart, in the place from which you plucked it from in that velvet patchwork quilt we call a sky, and I will watch you, always from afar.
Be a surgeon and find yourself the biggest heart. And when you do, let your darling love you and love your darling back. And when your darling hurts you, do not try to fix your broken heart with liquor or lust, but patience and promise, as your heart is the strongest ***** in your body. It keeps playing the most beautiful music when all else fails, and whatever God you choose my darling, he or she will listen to it always, even if that God you choose doesn't exist.
If neither these excite you, be an acrobatic swimmer and keep yourself afloat. Be a carpenter and build yourself a boat. Be an academic at Oxford and stand up and say 'I am a ******* academic at Oxford' and stick your finger up at Mrs Lewis down the road whose children have 'the potential' and gloat. Or be a mother like me, and know how to always make the world a whole better place with just a smile, a mothers grace.
But darling, if anything, just be you. As you are perfect. Not just perfect because you make the air dance with just a mere breath, or because you can sing the alphabet backwards, but because you are you.
