"interacting" poems
Did you need something?
Sorry, I'm raiding
And I have plans with a friend
To do some high rank arenas later
"I can't right now"
Or
"Give me a moment"
And that moment turns into ten
Then twenty
Perhaps an hour that lasts a day
It's a horrible habit at times
But I don't regret where I spend my life
Twisted into the net
Immersed in this video game
Like an unhealthy addiction
Only it's not
It's my choice
You do your thing
As I hide behind this screen
Enjoying my time
Interacting with people
Over great distances
Whom I call friends
They don't judge
The way those around me do
Believe it or not
Just don't be fooled
By those creeps out there
But I promise
Good people exist
Over the net
You just have to find them
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 6:04 PM UTC
<>
**”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light
Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”**
~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)
<>
First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,
at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee
it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue
simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul
here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
Aug 2, 2023
Aug 2, 2023 at 4:05 AM UTC
I lost myself in the nightsky
scaring me with it´s creatures
and found a stranger in the sunrise
blinding me with it´s shine
and the red sky left me stained
hiding my true colors
it was when the ocean turned purple
and the sky began to cry
soaking me with it´s odor
washing away my fragrance
that the reflection in the ocean
showed a stranger in me
So scared of the night I hid myself
becoming the spectator of my life
watching without interacting
silently in the back of my mind
I lost myself in the night
fearing it´s monsters
but the shine of the moon
brought me back
and as the sun rised
I finally saw
I was the monster
all along
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 7:56 AM UTC
the problem with dorm rooms
is that there are hundreds of
people
se p ar at ed
by paper-thin
walls
never interacting
only existing simultaneously
(which, is a cosmic interaction if you think about it.)
sometimes I lay in my bed
face against a cold paper wall
and I
think: what are these other people doing?
in this awkward layout of beds and desks
in the earlylate hours of the nightday
are some
sleeping frantically working
drunk in their beds laying frustratingly awake
awkwardly masturbating awkwardly ignoring the awkward ************
having cramped sex sleeping in the lounge to avoid said *** being had
crying and homesick consoling a homesick friend
too high to sleep too exhausted to be awake
or are some just as awake as I, wondering sleepily, what I am doing on the other side of the wall?
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 5:00 PM UTC
You were my colleague
Until a few weeks ago
Whenever I came to office
It was your presence
That brought a smile to my face
After the exhausting commute from my home
By the dreaded Mumbai locals
You were a ball of energy
And I felt so comfortable with you
That it was as though I was interacting with a family member
We had an excellent rapport
And I truly enjoyed working with you
I can never forget our team lunch at Canto
And of course, the grand team dinner at TOIT
On both occasions, all of us had a wonderful time
However, it was always you
Who turned out to be the life of the party
You are sweet and innocent
And your laughter is so infectious
That it makes us forget all our worries
And live in the moment
You may not be my colleague now
But you are still a good friend of mine
And will always be
It would be great if we can catch up again soon
Meanwhile, I wish you all the very best
For your career as well as your personal life
And last but not the least
Please keep smiling, as always
Jul 24, 2023
Jul 24, 2023 at 12:35 PM UTC
I'm not a religious man
but god might be there
Depends on what you mean
and if you think he should care.
I'm not a religious man
But, man, this got me thinking
There really is a new beginning.
After a life. That is ending.
Your life is a wave
Of information and matter
The wave started rising long before
you ever saw your first mother -
I don't believe in reincarnation -
but you are a manifestation of all
past and present influences
past choices and events.
Not just by you. But by eons of elders
that doomed or blessed you to a life of specific circumstance
We are
genetic combinations interacting with nature
A wave. A continuum
Connecting one time to another
LIFE IS LIVING THROUGH US
Now that's a magical feeling.
We are but seasonal leaves on an ever-growing tree
A tree that’s stuck with existing
that's how it's going to be.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
Bring your own juice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How is someone supposed to put into
words that they feel/ have been made (self)-aware(somehow) there personality adapts (naturally)?
to the people they are around and even beginning
to mimic the interacting persons emotions and personality traits
to create a, sociable personality.
because depression has taken a dramatic toll on their personality and they know longer know how to
Be there own person:
I often forget about the things i actually enjoy doing
because I'm not surrounded by people that enjoy doing the same things.
I love to write
I love to read
I like to play the guitar
I like to create art
and
I love making people happy!
So what could possibly be wrong?
Why do I loose my sense of self when I'm with others?
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 1:23 AM UTC
cars, trees and concrete flip by
like television channels, each one forgotten
by the press of the button
or the slow closing of my eyes as i grow tired
of the still-life patterns
and the constant sounds of humans
interacting with machinery
to tell the truth, it was different before
this morning, the buildings sped past
in time with my music
and i smiled back at the bus driver
sitting down with the anticipation
of standing up again
waiting to step down into that sunshine
waiting to shield my eyes from the sky
and wrap my vision around you
and you never disappoint
this afternoon, though
i sit heavy and sinking
into blue plush, silver metal and damp dust
as i leave the sunshine behind
call me dramatic, but leaving you
feels like the real thing
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
My feelings on the world are a complex dichotomy. If I could control the world, my rule would be to control nothing. To give freedom and agency to everyone and let every culture and kind shine as they do and **** superiority and focus on growth, not **********
But, not all people aren't as communally minded as that. And though in theory I could change the rules, I can't change people.
In its own way, that's beautiful. The visceral strength and resiliency of humanity fascinates me, with the chaotic undertones that lie beneath every eye. I love the spectrum of pain and brilliance it brings. But it also makes a utopian world of understanding and lack of control impossible to keep people safe; because never will there be a human race that doesn't at least have some people craving absolute control.
I think this dichotomy within myself parallels my standing with humanity very well. There is something on most every end I can find fascinating: free will, selflessness, unpredictability, tenacity. But also I can never seem to be pleased with how humanity could be but never amount to.
Not that it gives me much trouble. I've always kept humanity at an arm's length, choosing books and stories over the flesh-bags in front of my face. The only thing I ever struggled with was not being normal with my human relationships, and trying to make my methods match.
My methods won't match because I might as well be an alien for all I care about directly interacting with humanity.
Yet, I love humanity, in a way. I could write about human transcendence and growth until I die. I am madly in love with human potential. But I don't love humans. I don't love a species that muscle arms its way into dominance and can be arrogant and small-minded. After all we've managed to accomplish, and we're still start wars over skin color and scapegoating? Its laughable, in a way.
I suppose I look at humanity as if I was an alien scientist. I have no way of measuring things or conducting research because I'm foreign, but I can see the greatness in their eyes and am floored by it. Yet I also see the violence in their eyes and am repelled by it. The most tragic, push and pull love of my life has been for this species.
I've learned lately I'm okay with being alien. But its strange to find a foothold in a world where I feel constantly at odds and different.
But I like strange, so I think its what works best.
Between humanity and me, things are complicated. Things are wonderful and painful and all worth the while in its own, ****** way. I suppose all I have is my words and I'll share them, and humanity can listen if it will. I hope it will. I hope it can help people who feel like aliens too, and maybe then being an alien and a human can be easier.
But for those things, we'll just have to see.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
Everything feels like nothing, and nothing starts to feel like everything.
Everyday. Everyday as I wake up,
Nothing ever beats the feeling of inadequacy.
Inadequacy to do good
Inadequacy as a daughter
Inadequacy as a student
Inadequacy as a person
Inadequacy in feeling good within my own body
Inadequacy from feeling good about myself.
Everyday feels like an endless loop, you best believe my misery hunts me.
But what is inadequacy?
Is it scarcity? Deficiency? Insufficiency? A lack thereof?
Is it this mindless blob, formless and dark or a mangled form of flesh, eating away at you and your insecurities?
Like a virus, it pins you, goes deep inside you and there is never enough antibiotic for you...
This inadequacy keeps me up at ungodly hours where the sun howls and moon chirps, the clouds look at us, feigning interest, idly looking but never interacting.
This inadequacy lulls me in irregular fever dreams where comfort lies in solitude and loneliness,
where the people that surround you, cover their ears, bites their cheek, looks forwards, smiles faintly, but never tries to understanding.
My heart wails for the smallest of things. Nothing, nothing becomes everything.
My successes make me feel less, still. Everything, everything becomes nothing.
I am this inadequate thing, floating around, never seeming to be enough.
Inadequate. Because i could not protect myself from those who touch my skin like its free real estate, those clammy hands holding me in a state
A state of frenzy that never seems to end
Inadequate. That no matter what I do, my past will forever haunt me and define the being I am now that no matter how much I change, and try and try and try to do good, it will never be
enough.
And those same voices, those same people, they say they scream they tell me,
“You should have told me.”
“You should have fought back.”
“You are a waste of time.”
“You are dumb.”
“You are nothing.”
“You waste your talents for something as this,”
And those same people, let go of words
That back then would have meant nothing
But now it seems to be everything
It becomes my identity
It becomes my oxygen
It becomes the blood that circulates in my body
It becomes the endorphins in my brain
Nothing becomes everything. And everything that I’ve tried to change, worked hard to achieve, tried to mend, was sorry for, starts to become nothing.
But I am tired of feeling like nothing. That everything I do is always inadequate. That it is some form of scarcity, deficiency, insufficiency, a lack thereof.
These mindless blobs, or mangled forms of flesh,
Like a virus, it pins me, goes deep inside me and there is never enough antibiotic for me...
Because instead of listening, to understand, to empathize, they listen so they can jeopardize...
Whatever love is left that I could give to myself,
Without a shred of doubt,
In a warm, bright embrace for myself, in a corner slouched.
So, I ask these voices, who are only here to remind how inadequate I am:
How do I fight back?
How do I be good enough?
How do I become less dumb?
How do I make nothing stay as nothing? And appreciate everything as everything?
Because day by day, this inadequacy I feel, gets really tiring.
Sep 18, 2020
Sep 18, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
What a wonderful sister, you are
For you, a lot do I care
Not all the time, may we talk
However, when it gets really dark
You are the light I badly need
Your words of advice, are always to be heeded
And interacting with you is so much fun
That it makes me forget all my pain!
What a wonderful sister, you are
With you around, is there nothing to fear
Indeed, do you have a very calming presence
And gifted are you, with oodles of common sense
No wonder, are you such a fine lawyer
A lot of trouble, do you often have to bear
However, every test do you end up clearing with flying colours
For you, are no circumstances too adverse!!
What a wonderful sister, you are
Grinning was I, from ear to ear
When you arrived a few weeks back
Brought me some respite from work
So thoughtful, was your gift
Truly, do you possess a golden heart!!
What a wonderful sister, you are
And will be, now and forever
Keep smiling and take care
And may you be blessed with a glorious future!!
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 11:25 AM UTC
We are all apart of one system
yet there are many components to this system
innumerable actually
all following the same laws
as if contractually
bound by one set of rules
but
with infinite variation
like nations of expression separated by vibration
only contained by the systems within
that perceive and react
to the system
they sustain
one giant metaphor
a sufficient example
is the human body
a complex interaction
of
individual organisms
all communicating, interacting and participating
in sustaining the body
an organism
of organisms
Even our organs have organs,
working together to sustain
a system larger than itself
cells
communicating, producing
regulating, exchanging
are themselves composed of
organisms, performing
all these functions
we must not
forget
the system
which we sustain
the order
we provide
for the larger body and mind
together
we compose the cells of this planet
interacting and communicating
with each other and all other life
a subtle dance
that carries impressive consequences
except
the way in which we act
as organisms
is likened to cancer
in which
a once productive cell
behaves individually
not in accordance with the system it sustains
replicating uncontrollably
wasting unnecessarily
not taking the whole into consideration
although
if the planetary cancer of humanity
replicates
itself to extinction
all will still be well
as it always has been
and
always will be
yet
the system
in which we exist
would lose
the chance to witness and experience
the transformation from cancer
to great negative immunity
through the powers
of the newly recognized
human organism
a system sustained
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Persistent places
Sequent occupations of the landscape diachronically
Consisting of Action, Search, and Awareness Spaces
Action Spaces
The foci of people comprehensively
Interacting with their place
Search Spaces
Where people go
To fulfill specific needs
Awareness Spaces
Those places people are aware of
But do not interact directly
These spaces that appear as palimsests
Accumulated layers of action, search and awareness
Comprehending persistent places is to understand the past
r 30Oct2013
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Magic unrealized . . .
Man, woman interacting,
Child just loves flower.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
i find myself assuming the role
of quiet observer, looking around
discreetly, and with more interest
than i let on, i am transfixed
by the simplicity with which complications arise
between crooked pathways
and straight lines
of people, walking around
interacting on levels that confound me
and it makes me feel like an island
yet uncharted
sand untouched, bare of footprints
and most of the time, i like it
the feeling of being clean
unsullied by those complications
and i sit on my shore, watching the ragged ships
sail by
and the gulls circle, crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we hide the truth
and perform the lies?
sometimes, i assume the role
of confidant, of living journal
and i describe the weight of the words dropped on my pages
to nobody, because
it really isn't my place
to trivialize darknesses other than my own
and i understand, i do
but i feel lost, some days
among the black holes of people
who cannot escape their own space
their own star-flecked universes
and their planets crash into mine
Milky Way swerving out of the path of destruction
and getting lost in their dissolving sighs
and i feel heavy
with the ink of their confessions
heavy with the advice that they ignore
heavy with the simple ideas
that crowd my head, circling like those gulls
crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we confide in strangers
and never trust our own star systems
to find their way back into orbit?
i find myself assuming the role
of me, of my own name
displayed proudly on my sleeve
familiar letters that seem to betray
my transparent, flickering image
warm and true to friends' eyes, perhaps
but the spaces between the characters
are what appear to me in the mirror
not the black lines
but the grey areas
and i feel that transparency often
when i am surrounded by that sea once again
as i so often am
and the waves just seem to crash right over me
feeling invisible, and yet somehow
too visible
to ever be a part of the current, it seems
as each whisper, each ripple
each glance, each possible missed chance
each glimmering sail upon the horizon
appears to laugh at me
whether it's my sad, slow swimming
or my ragged inward appearance
that shines through the cracks in my face
it all becomes part of an image
that i see burned upon the surface of my soul
and some days it truly feels
like even the gulls are circling around me, crying out
why?
why do you do these things to yourself?
why do you even bother?
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
Yehudit stood
by the window
of the bedroom
looking out
at the garden below
Baruch lay
on the bed
taking in
her figure
standing there
after having
made love
in his bed
I like your apple orchard
she said
the blossom
makes it
so beautiful
not as beautiful
as you
he said
taking in
her nakedness
the sunlight touching
her profile
she smiled
the blossom
is more beautiful
than I am
she said
come back to bed
he said
she turned
and walked back
to the bed
and lay beside him
I’ll have to go soon
she said
your mother
will be returning
from her work soon
he watched her eyes
the flush
about her skin
I know
he said
guess we best
get dressed
and I’ll walk you
back home
she kissed him
and he caressed her
and she ran a hand
along his thigh
shame we have to go
she said
he kissed her
and said
can't risk being here
when Mother returns
or she'll put
2 +2 and come up
with 5
Yehudit sighed
and moved off
the bed
and began to dress
into her underclothes
and orange flower
patterned dress
he got up
and began to get dressed
looking at her nakedness
disappear into clothes
the memory
of their love making
fresh in his mind
her apple scent
her body supple
her peasant look
her simplicity
the kissing
the holding
the bodies interacting
ready?
he asked
she nodded
and they went down
the stairs
and out the back door
and along the path
by the apple orchard
and out the back gate
into the woods
there was birdsong
and a warm air
and smell of the farm
beyond the woods
back to work tomorrow
she said
my half day
spent making love
they kissed
and he walked her
through the woods
to her house
along the small road
at the edge of the field
by the farmed land
he holding her
peasant
warm hand.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
I can't help but wonder
If I was made for something different
To influence someone else,
Instead of the people around me.
What if I was made for so much more
Than tearing others down.
But I just ended up
Born somewhere I wasn't meant to be.
I feel like I'm here on accident,
That the reason I don't fit in,
Is because I'm not supposed to.
I clash so much with others.
I'm fighting with myself,
And the situation I've been put in.
Frustrated, angry,
Wondering if it's fair.
If only I had been born where I was supposed to,
Miles away from here,
Interacting with different people,
To find my true potential.
Instead I'm stuck here,
In a life that I don't fit in,
Becoming a black sheep among the white,
The catalyst that makes things different.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
We enter
this realm,
like a pebble
into a
pond.
Immediately
we leave
ripples.
As we
move along,
the ripples
grow
interacting
with other
ripples
an ocean
of ripples.
Our ripples
commingle
influence.
Cascading
influence
over time.
Positive ripples
or
negative, greedy
ripples.
Which will we
leave behind?
In the end,
will it be
about power
and money,
or,
the ripples
of kindness
that will change
it all, and
reflect
well
on our
passage.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Unlike most people I know who make friends everywhere they go;
I have trouble interacting with others.
It took me all long time to make friends,
sure people would talk to me but
I guess they’d got bored
cause they never tried speaking to me again.
I try to make friends once and a while,
but sometimes we have nothing in common
so I stop interacting with them.
Either way I’m going to have to start to learn
how to make friends,
I can’t be a loner forever.
Or can I?
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
There was a spark that made me smile
It put me to sleep when time could not
I wished I could ignite that spark that puts life in me
When I found the spark didn't notice my reaction
I was near the edge prepared to step off
How could a spark acknowledge my being
A spark isn't alive, it's just a result of 2 things, 2 people, interacting
That's impossible
Just like you and I are impossible
When the spark, the only spark, died...
My palms covered my face because it never breathed, for it was never embraced, or born
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
Orbs with many layered shells.
Floating around, interacting, and multiplying.
When one Orb meets another for the first time,
It's sweet and endearing.
They are shy and awkward, Unsure of how to act.
Communicating using cliched questions and sometimes answers.
Small sparks of energy transferring between them,
Slowly dragging them closer together.
Cracks begin to appear on their outer most shell and
Tendrils of multicolored energies seep out.
The tendrils find each other and a bond is formed.
It's a scary moment, for the bond doesn't always last.
However the two Orbs struggle to keep communicating,
To keep the pure bond that has been formed.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:07 PM UTC
a human tool, a drawing pencil, shedding snakeskin cells as
lead from no. 2 pencil
am **** and blood, skin and hairless,
all-to-come-to-go,
return retuned, at their own chosen speed,
gen of regeneration of disrupted oils and heavenly blessings,
morning cracks and orifices, filling and emptying obediently,
to the tidings of the grieving gravity of my moon’s decisions
that govern the lunatic cycle
you may kiss me with all your heart unto a robust welcoming,
scorn with spittle and deem unfit,
I know the difference and it is inconsequential
see me as combustible or flat, airless and empty,
as a new or a two day old leaking birthday balloon, or a haiku
that makes the reader gasp for the reasoning for breathing
think of me as a meme who responds to the touch of
your nippled forefinger, but my powers are unlisted,
therefore unlimited
for I am neither cyber or cypher though aesthetically they
appear as parts of my humanity, a human machine
forever reprogramming to new stimuli sensating,
the temperature of your breath, the many odors of you
as inputs that bear newborn children notions in
my chested gas chambers, the belligerent bellum bellies of my brain
my digital describe in thousands of computers do hide,
but to comprehend the interacting calculations that are
my constancy and my inconsistencies, you must make a tour
if you are awake between midnight and dawn when from
wells the visions, the fluids - the words are drawn
they, the residuals of a man’s *********** with
other humans, kin akin, and the thriving discourse between l,
man and parental gods of invisible powers, that offers insanity
as a viable solution, to cracking the codex human DNA
in the vial labelled Medusa
Who else?
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
•••
*Dancing lights
Only hurt my eyes
Screaming and loud music
Disgusting to my ears
Vodkas, cocktails and whiskeys
Never wanted to feel frisky
*** dope, cigarettes
I will only regret
Dancing, party, bar
Never wanted to go that far
Yes I have been to parties
But never will it become my thing
Maybe my past life has an old soul
Who finds comfort in her own hole
Yes, sometimes an anti-social
And sometimes interacting is crucial
So next time you ask me out
Make sure you know what I'm about
Coffee or tea, movies and books
Exhibits and museums let's take a look
A good music or a storytelling
A walk in a park or just talking
Pick me a flower, don't buy me a bouquet
Just hold my hand and always stay*
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
every day brings
such magic
such disappointment
where did things go
so wrong
energetic shifts
female
male
exhaustion
weighs heavily
waking to
the patriarchal
********
how weary
i am of
fighting the
status quo
one wonders
why others
opt
to check out
of this manifestation
deep deep eons
of exhaustion
tired of fighting
the contemporary
masculine mindset
tired of
swimming upstream
when did it become
so common to
dismiss
the sacred feminine?
all beings carry
within them
both energies
being guilty of
dismissing my own
feminine energy
i now pay the
karmic debt for
that way
painful after
painful
encounters
chips away at
my soul
the soul
incarnated here
weary is this soul
of interacting with
males
tied to the current
cultural norms in
most societies
while appearing
different
they quickly become
like all the rest
tired am i of
seeing the unlimited
potentional
in these small beings
it steals my energy
it constricts my soul
there HAS to be
another way...
one that reveres the
feminine....
in ALL
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:46 PM UTC
You are beautiful.
The words whispered without doubt.
Each syllable slipping through smoothly,
as if somehow shaping this statement supports
and supplements its substantiality.
You...are beautiful.
A falling phrase fathering the feeling,
that every fleeting fear has found itself futile and foreign.
Until you find yourself yielding and yearning to yip,
as you did in the yesteryears of youth.
But these words are not spoken with enough clarity.
These words are taken as a compliment meant to leave you blushing.
They are understood as a revelation encountered after you are found to be the victor
of a superficial comparison with those around you.
As if each attractive feature earns you additional points,
with a judge that can be bought with each glance and smile and touch.
As if each insecurity that you feel,
or each person that you think is more alluring,
can somehow subtract from the meaning of the statement.
Your beauty cannot be compared.
The beauty that you contain cannot be explained
to joking friends when they ask where you fit in on a 10-scale.
You cannot put numbers next to the hope and insight that you so freely give.
There are not enough hedons to quantify it.
You are beautiful.
I will repeat it until you think it echoes off the walls surrounding you.
Until every time you look into a mirror you believe you have x-ray vision,
and you can see the warmth of your soul,
with the clarity of vision that you have granted me.
Until you realize that every smile that appeared,
every laugh that escaped,
and every brief happy dance that was ever done in your presence
was caused by the beauty that rests within you.
You...are beautiful.
Wielding the talent to brighten a day with a single smile,
the power to make all of the worries and doubts in a person's mind disappear
with a single thoughtful statement,
a capacity for selflessness that allows no cynic to doubt your motives,
and the ability to make others realize their own beauty
just by interacting with you.
The world is more beautiful because you are a part of it.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC