If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands or windows or mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may have not ever seen one before.
If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes, it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle, a door, a sandwich, a Pulitzer — another woman.
But their hands found you first.
Do not mistake yourself for a guardian or a muse or a promise or a victim or a snack.
You are a woman — skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair and sweat.
You are not made out of metaphors, not apologies, not excuses.
If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,
You can let them hold you.
All day they practice keeping their bodies upright.
Even after all this evolving it still feels unnatural.
Still strains the muscles, hold firms the arms and spine.
Only some men will want to learn what it feels like to curl themselves into a question mark around you,
Admit they do not have the answers they thought they would by now.
Some men will want to hold you like the answer.
You are not the answer.
You are not the problem.
You are not the poem or the punch-line or the riddle or the joke.
Woman, if you grow up the type men want to love,
You can let them love you.
Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping.
It is realizing you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.
Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of women men will hurt.
If he leaves you with a car alarm heart, you learn to sing along.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean even after it has left you gasping — "salty."
So forgive yourself for the decisions you've made.
The ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night and know this:
Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.
Let the statues crumble.
You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You are born to build.
my favorite, old,
yet loved book;
the yellowed pages
bent at the corner
margins full of notes
a young adult
with a goofy aura,
a gentle smile,
an adventurous look
that never leaves your eyes
sweet like honey
calm and relaxing,
is music to my ears
(as this is different from touch)
it comforts me,
on a rainy day indoors
curled into your arms
home is where the heart is
it beats for you
I wish I could ask that special question.
The one I would love her to answer.
To see that undescribable expression.
To finally get the amazing dance with her.
To see if true love really does thrive.
To see if it does hold true.
To see if in this world it can survive.
To see all the problems it can cut through.
To see the flowers blooming all around.
To see the roots of the trees burrow deep beneath.
Then look to see all the people we astound.
As long as you answer the question our love will never bequeath.
And if you look to your side I will always be beside you.
As long as you say I do.
We walk through this hallway like a feather from some other continent, looking into the eyes of people we knew but never met, people we met but never knew. We walk through this corridor with our minds floating into a space in time no one else could find, floating alongside the stars into the vast nothingness of the universe. We walk through time, finding gazes of people only to find them looking at something else. We spend this walk in a classroom looking into the eyes of people we may or may not have shared moments with. Wanting to find what makes them close their eyes in fear, wanting to see whatever it is that makes them. We spend this walk in a dining table face to face with people weve known our whole lives. And when we catch a gaze all we can see is a stranger and we try, so hard to unlock whatever it is that's locked. We spend this lifetime trying to find someone who have the same chemicals running through our veins.
Our flesh we'll never get tired of this neverending walk. Our eyes we'll never get tired of this sightseeing, we'll never get tired of looking more than what the eyes can see. We'll walk wherever part of the world it is in hopes of finding someone who see the world as we do. We continue to walk through this because no one else does, no one else takes the time to understand something so distorted. We walk through this lifetime for everyone else who begs to be understood.
When I see the life's colours
The emotions in me rise
From the yellow Sun comes the warmth of love
Held open by the bluest skies
When I see life's illusions
Waves of fluttered doubts rise
Though the Almighty's sigh
Showers and clears them from the vast sky
When I think of life's wonder
Waves of Amazement in me rise
Let no man put asunder
The beauty that I find
When I see life's mad elements
Shimmering Craziness in me rise
From the gloomy heart's scent
Leaves no other choice
When I see life's gifts
Passionate charity moulds in me
From the heart of gold
With rejoice and fraternity
When I see life's foam
Bubble-like desires in me rise
With heavy and blissful tops
But still smashed like pies
When I see life's bonds
Desires for divine in me rise
Like ligaments and tendons
Waiting for the day to traumatize
When I see the whole universe in life
Willin' curiosity in me rise
To solve the unsolved
No one can summarise
When I see the downtrodden
The need in me does rise
To not forget the forgotten
As I look to the warm the Sun in the sky..