They will see the twinkle in my eye but you, you will know my story like the back of your hand .
You will pick my book up and embrace it, so that it can feel the warmth of your chest and know that it is home.
You will not place me back on the shelf, in fact you will take me home with you and read me every night, repeating each word memorising every sentence just so that you are able to understand the chaos that resides within my mind.
To the boy who will notice me.
There will be days where I will struggle to get out of bed. But there will also be days where all I want to do is explore the ground in which we walk on with you. There will be days where I will struggle to eat. But there will also be days, where I will not be hungry and the only thing filling me is your company .
It is then you will read me like a book . You will memorise my blurb like it’s an ancient scripture made to be worshipped and my body a shrine, only to be entered with the best of wishes.
And it is then that I would like you to know…
That I do not ask for much .
I do not ask for diamonds to be dug from beneath the rich soil. Nor chocolates to be imported from the sweet grounds of Belgium. ( Although chocolate isn’t too bad!)
However what I will ask you for is your time. Time to sit down and read me. Time to understand the ink in which I was wrote with..But most of all to understand me.
To the boy who will notice me.
You will soon come to realise that you will not win an arguement with me .
you will notice that I leave the cap of the toothpaste, and laugh uncontrollably at conversations that will not even seem mildly funny to you.
But you will soon come to realise that I mean no harm.
You will notice that people will see me as confident and chatty, however you will understand that this smile I wear so proudly, like a medal of honour, has been fought for bravely, and it is more than just confidence. It is my identity.
When you do not see the light in your eyes I will show you the Mirror. When you cannot get out of bed I will be the one holding your hand letting you know it’s safe to put your feet on the ground and walk. When you do not have the energy to walk through life with the same attitude as you did before, I will tell you that I am a step behind you ready to catch you IF you fall. Not that you will. Because by the time I am done with you, you will believe in yourself. Because you, YOU are my muse. You are the one I write for and the reason I write. You held the quill I wrote with when my hands fell shaky, you were the one who cleaned my eyes when the tears because a pool on my lash line. So this. All this I dedicate to you. You are the reason I am able to step out from behind the shadows and show the world my feelings. You let me think that what I do and what I feel can be justified. That the bad days will end and the good days can start. You are why I am able to live to see another day and you my dear will learn to love life again, just the way you taught me to. Just how you believed that there couldn’t be a rainbow without rain. For you I will be the rain, just so you are able to get your rainbow.
To the man I will Marry. I know you will hold me from behind when I need it most and cradle me to sleep in your arms making me feel at home. You will listen to my childish sleeptalks and snoring when I am sleeping in our bed, and consider them as sweet symphonies that will lull you to sleep. You must understand that sometimes, I will want to stay in my pyjamas all day and not make an effort. And other days I will want to spend 2 hours finding a dress for myself that I won’t end up wearing because it makes my hips look too big and settle for a dress that I realise didn’t go with the shade of my lipstick. That is what I am, an organised mess. You will need to accept my immaturity for naivety and my stubbornness for determination. You will need to see rose gardens in me where others saw thorns. And hold me in your hand protecting me like a thorn protects the rose. I know you will take me for long pizza drives in Cornwall and let me choose the playlist we listen to. And on our way home when I am tired and the sun is about to set giving way to the stars to come out. You must tell me how my eyes resemble the stars and how beautiful they are. That is all.
Love. A simple four letter word but it has the power to turn your world upside down. The type to make you understand why it had never worked out with anyone else before. To see why the love you feel now and the hurt you felt before was not the same. Because now you understand love and you see that it makes your heart feel fulfilled and your soul feel hungry for more. It’s like a drug. A drug you cannot get enough of. Love is not overcompensating for everything to make up for your insecurities. But hugging your stomach and embracing your curves, because the person you love embraces them. Looking at yourself in the mirror and accepting yourself that is what love is. Love is seeing your reflection whilst your new found Love stands behind you, to catch you incase you fall again and forget your worth. That is what love is.
–for a special button who helped me learn my worth. Thank you for helping me rise when I thought getting up was impossible. Love you now and always. I hope you enjoy the love you receive too and it helps you know your worth.🌹 Because you deserve everything and more my lovely.
This cruel world will drag you to the empty side of your bed just to watch you make friends with the dark shadows that lay beside you and haunt you in your sleep. They will feast on your skin and leave your bones as reminders of what loneliness can do to you …
Hold me in your arms and tell me that tomorrow will be better. That just how the sun sets and it rises again is exactly how my sadness shall disappear and happiness shall take its place. Tell me how every cloud in the horizon can make the sky seem complete, how every curve tells it’s own story. Tell me how I will have my own story to tell, but I must survive through this page and make it to the end of my book. To be able to have lived. To have survived.
You won’t go against your own rules and go against ‘your type’. So you choose to stick with your mistakes and constantly go for the boys who fulfill your desires, and those who lust over you causing you to mistake it for love and affection. Not knowing that there is a Man ready to give you the world in the palm of his hands. Time and time again you are faced with the same problems and you choose to return to them in the shape of another face. Just because the face has changed that doesn’t mean that the soul will change. You want the soul of a man who will look at you like you are the morning sun and need you like you are his crutch on the days where he craves your love. The one who will grow with you and grow for you. The one to mend your heart from previous mistakes and change your opinion on love. The kind your parents warn you about later on in life because he’s ‘The one’ he will have the power to hurt you and love you at the same time. He will not only invest his love in your relationship but will invest in you because you will be his future, his top priority. That is what a Man is. He’s the one you weren’t ready for because he wasn’t ‘your type’ but now that youve realised what love is he’s ‘just your type’.
I didn’t write because I wanted attention, or needed to ‘feed my ego’. I’d say it was the feeling of instead wanting to ‘feed my soul’. It is easy to Sit and Judge another whilst all he simply wishes to do is bare his heart for all those watching. And i guess that is all i wish to do, to bare my heart to all and have hope, no faith that there shall be one who feels my quill in the spine of their memories and feels themselves in me. So i write. I write because it gives me a sense of euphoria, it takes me to a place where I have hope that I can beat these dark monsters that keep me awake at night. Maybe they’re not monsters? Or, maybe I’m not really awake?-But all I know is if writing makes me feel this way then I wish never to awaken from this deep sleep again. If it oozes my bruised heart to sleep everyday, then I wish for this cruel world to keep on bruising it. I wish for writing and writing alone to be the ailment to all remedies for this young child. So that when the time comes and she’s lived her life and all that she’s seen in this world has disappeared. When the beauty of nature dies out and the orange fiery ball of fire we see in the sky disappears and burns everything in its path, like it had ceased to ever exist before. My writing will exist. The history of it, the legacy I leave behind for myself and all the broken. That will Always exist.
My love was pure, the kind which baptized the sins of your heart and left it as white as milk. The kind where when you lay out in the orchard of my memories you’d pick the sweetest of them all and hold it close to your chest allowing it to touch the sweet nectar of your skin and embrace its delicate touch. I gave you an infinity in the little time we had, I gave you galaxies, moons and milky ways and yet you still yearned for the stars in my eyes. It was never enough. When we’d stare up at the night sky and accept its darkness and beauty, and how it could manage to silence us both and always push me into your arms, because that’s what you were to me the night sky in all its phases. The sun which shined on my darkest days and the starry night sky which always lead me home. You were the end to all my beginnings and the solution to all my problems. And when you’d ask me if I loved you, I’d always say it was like asking me if I breathe. But you took my breath with you leaving me to choke, and I’ve never learnt to breathe again…