In she came,

Pushing and shoving her way in,

Barreling through the massive crowds,

Baring her soul for the world to see,

It was black and hardened,

Used and abused,

Tossed and tarnished,

Broken,

My eyes could crumble at the sight,

There she stood,

Head held high toward the sun’s light,

A ghost of a smirk lit her face,

Blood seeped down her legs,

The red liquid complimenting her dark flesh,

Whispers crawled against her skin,

Leaving kisses in their wake,

The sun began to set,

The moon taking its place,

And just like she came she went,

Pushing and shoving her way back,

Barreling through the massive crowds,

Baring her soul for the world to see,

But this time when she left,

She forgot all about me.

let’s play

with words

&

we’ll laugh

at fate?

Starving

on

breadcrumbs

at love's table.

A few people have recently expressed kind thoughts on my femininity, and I so appreciate that because I love being a woman. To be feminine is to be soft and tender, but it does not equate to fragility or subserviency. With that said, it does not make you less of a woman if you are not as gentle. Being strong or effective does not require that one always be loud, angry, or generally intimidating. There is strength in grace - in control. Take your time to measure your words, to be cognizant, and compassionate. Know that emotions (your own or others’) don’t control you unless you allow it and that you can be vulnerable without breaking. Be fluid enough that you are resilient, steadfast but not so stubborn that you are blind. Be confident enough to learn, (just) listen, and allow others to take the reins sometimes for doing so does not mean you are sacrificing your independence. Own your roles, body, feelings, opinions, and sexuality - don’t hide, neglect, or deprive yourself because of the fears and insecurities of others.⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣

I’m inherently feminine but am ultimately human; there’s no need to limit myself by choosing to be one thing or another. One can be nurturing and still set boundaries, sophisticated and still playful, classy and still sexy, opinionated and still respectful, brave with somethings yet fearful of others. Lastly, the fun part - as a woman, you can enjoy primping from time to time while still maintaining practicality. Take pride in your appearance, as the degree that you care for your external self reflects how you nurture your internal self.

#opinion #nonfiction #femininity #womanhood #female

You were a handsome light falling across my blackest edges. But you clung, sticky and unyielding. You clung, desperate to brighten even my darkest corners. But I am no moth. And your light does not entice me the way that you wish. So you burned brighter, still. Enveloping me in you. And the luminance blinds me. And I save myself the only way I know. I push your glow away and fall safely back into midnight.

He is perfect to me, not in spite of his flaws, because his flaws are what makes him who he is, without them he would be someone else. He makes me want to spend every second of every day, doing everything I possibly can, just to make him smile. He took what to me was merely another 4 letter word, and finally gave it meaning. Those 3 meaningless words do not need to be spoken, it is shown in every little thing we do, it is felt with in the deepest depths of our souls. I feel it in everything, in things that once were nothing, when our eyes meet from across the room, when his hand lightly touches my cheek, when we kiss, I can even feel it in a passing thought of him. Every moment, without a doubt, I know he loves me, without having to hear the words. He will give me the feeling that some part of me, that I didn't even realize had been missing was now there, i now question how I ever lived without it, and my life, my existance finally has meaning... my world is perfect, because of his love I am whole.

I often think, “What was I thinking?”

Followed by, “Why did I say it out loud?”

And ending with, “Wait, how did you interpret that as a good idea??? I was joking!”

This happened often in college, with open fires and late night bus trips, all inspired by poor pondering habits.

Be careful what you question out loud.

My mind is always floaded with poems so much so that I have to find a way to turn off my mind. My whole world is a story and everything I come in contact with can become a story, a poem, and should I say a song too. I have tons of scrape paper's, envelopes, letters, book's I mean all kinds of books that I use to write in. And who hasn't used toilet paper before because you forget your phone. Not only that I'm obsessed with writing pens as well. Every good writer have to have their writing pens.