I'm in love with your honor and your humility. You are gracious and kind, cute and funny. When I look at you I admire your simplicity, but always feel the complexity of your heart.
I know that you're not fickle, you're just careful. You told me once that I was the only person to ever make you feel safe and wanted; recently you told me that you still meant that, whole heartedly. Why, then, am I afraid to admit my love for you?
We have been in love for five years: of course it wasn't always perfect but that is because we were lucky to meet each other so young. We're older now, we have more wisdom and experiences, we see with even more clarity how special we are to each other.
I love you: your smile, your thoughts, and your mind. It is okay to find love so young, we just have to have the courage to not be afraid of its realness, of its impact. I am ready to finally say that I love you, but is the world ready for us?
My friend believed the reason I was so happy today was because she thought this thing between you and me had progressed. I shook my head and told her that I was happy because I wanted to be and that I can't base my happiness solely on you.
i close my eyes.
i've always loved the idea of flying. loved the idea of having a set of huge, luscious wings stretching out from my back. i've always found them beautiful. angelic. so when i want to get away, i close my eyes.
i imagine a stretching feeling between my shoulder blades. i imagine a set of feathery, 12 foot long wings stretching out for the first time in a long time. they shake and shudder and that delicious feeling you get when you've just woken up from a good night's rest washes over me. and there's a slight woosh sound and my wings open. they soak up the sun, heat or cold, and catch the wind. i beam.
i know in my mind that i would never be able to grow such a set of feathers. humans don't possess the dynamics of birds, or even bats, and we'd never be able to get off the ground even with a 50 foot wingspan. we'd have to develop hollow bones and air sacs, and even then we would flop and flutter like a drunken fruit fly. but i dream.
i dream about those wings. they're brown and shine with red highlights, just like my natural hair. they stretch long and wide like my skinny arms, but they also reach up half a meter above my head. my primary feathers are smooth and sleek and are lined with soft down. my muscles are well developed in my back, and my wings encompass most of it. and they itch. every so often my feathers molt and the feeling of new feathers poking through my skin is just about as pleasant as growing new teeth. my wings wrap around my body and keep me warm, and are cumbersome through doorways and shirts. they're annoying in the city where i can never find 12 feet of free space to stretch them out, and getting up into the air is worse. bath tubs and showers are nearly impossible, and shopping is a disaster.
but these are my wings.
they are more, really, my dreams.
i think of them when i want to feel strong. i imagine that they draw gazes, allow me to escape, allow me to fly, even in this bitterly cold winter. fly up and up to where the clouds break and the moon shines, where i could flutter and spiral back down to earth like the snowflakes that land outside my bedroom window. they help me believe that i'm different and beautiful and special and talented in a way that makes me stand out and that i could go somewhere.
i close my eyes.
how would you feel to know that i dream about these wings? that i dream of hovering above waters from different planets?
perhaps i could be your girl with wings. your powerful woman that literally sweeps you off your feet as she flies off into the night. beautiful; a force. because truthfully, i would love to fly into your worlds, above your waters, through your trees and forests and laugh as i puncture through clouds and rain and blink in bright sunshine.
as a poet, i'm sure there are framed pictures and paintings of the souls who have just done that, lining the walls of your mind.
i want you to paint me too. i want you to paint me as your winged woman. your beautiful, powerful, magical, special, different, angelic, awe inspiring, lovely, enticing, and absolutely filled to the brim with joy and love woman.
but i think i need to believe it first.
so i close my eyes.
and i dream.
I was sitting in the living room with my grandma, watching some rubbish on tv. Someone in the programme was talking about how they didn't think they could ever committ to one person because they'd get bored.
My grandma turned to me and said;
"I've been with your grandad for 57 years now, and the last thing I've ever been is bored."
I do think she's beautiful, striking even. She has soft blonde hair that flows to her waist and eyes like the ocean, ever changing. Her smile is bright and welcoming, warm and comforting. Her skin is smooth, like the wind washed sand of the desert.
But what makes her so intoxicating is not her appearance. It's the way that her eyes twinkle when she talks about outer space. The sound of her laugh when she pokes fun at herself for being clumsy. The way her walls go down with the sun and the later it is the more her sentences sound like poems. The honesty that spills from her in the most sincere sense without ever sounding mean. The way she loves telling me insignificant yet interesting facts about people and places, and the way she loves it even more if no one in the room had heard that before. The way she sits on my bedroom floor with her legs twisted around each other and breathes slowly while she studies. The way she closes her eyes and leans back to listen to old songs on the radio. The way she drives with her car windows open no matter the weather. The way she floats around barefoot all summer, carefree and curious. The way she loves animals like they are her own children, but can eat a steak like nobody's business. The way she curls her body around mine beneath soft blankets and whispers so no one can hear her but me. The way her eyes shine in the light of the moon when she tells me she loves me.
She's beautiful, but she is so much more.
When people say love won't make things better, they're right. Your love will not fix my depression. Your love is not going to change the way my family fights all the time. Your love can't remove my stress and busyness and exhaustion. Your love is incapable of healing my cuts and bruises, aches and sores.
But your love can make me feel a lot less lonely. Your love can give me something to hope for. Your love can be my last support. Your love can try to give my heart some warmth.
And I'd say that's pretty damn good enough.
-girl who could type really fast
Since I have a crush on you now, I find it kind of difficult to talk to you without getting flustered.
Just the other day I saw you and I acted completely awkward. You were rambling on about something and were looking directly at me and I couldn't help myself from becoming speechless and incredibly red. You must have noticed because that's when you drew me into a hug and patted my head.
Then again, there are perks to blushing..
He made me a cake for Valentine's Day, because he saw a video on youtube for making a cake with 20 layers of crepes and a rainbow heart in the middle.
Have you ever seen those posts where people compare Pinterest posts with actual attempts? This cake was the best example of "nailing it!" that I'd ever seen. He stopped at 17 layers because it was literally falling over. There was no outside frosting because again, it was falling over and he was unable to apply any. The rainbow heart in the middle was a bizarre series of pastel splotches that looked like a technicolor inkblot test.
But he made it, and that alone made it beautiful.
I always thought I knew what it meant to be in love. I always thought people who let themselves be taken up with the idea of love and swept up in the fantasy were crazy and that they didn't know what they were talking about. And then I met you and everything changed, All the things they said finally made sense and as cheesy as it sounds I actually understood those silly love songs I used to laugh at. Slowly every part of my life became entwined with thoughts of you. You took over my dreams, my aimless thoughts always found their way to you. If I wasn't talking to you I was thinking of what I'd say when I did talk to you and what we would do in our beautiful imagined world. Everything that I am includes you now.