memoirs of a poet

Beneath the laughter and longing smiles of my kindred sisters,
I would make love a plaything, 
Mock it as if I were some kind of Shakespearean villain. 
I would tie my own laces and nurse myself when sick,
Wipe my own tears away and buy myself flowers,
Leave that boy and light that match. 
Play at the ‘I don’t need a man’ archetype. 

I still follow this principle,  
I am always there for me when I need me to be.
I am all that I need.
But, needs and wants are separate entities.

When I can no longer play hide and seek with me and myself, 

At night,
Under watchful candlelights,
I hold a crooked pen in my scarred hands,
Leaning against a much-loved notebook,
I would dream up a love that would be as consistent as the sea is to the shore,
Cracking me open for all of me, 
Carefully eroding away the rough patches of its equal,
Carrying me along the shoreline until we fit as one,
Putting my salt to good use so it no longer felt futile.


A love as sappily cyclical as the bloom of daffodils in the Spring,
and as inevitable as the risk of Winter. 
A love that would be rooted in empathy, sprout soft words, even softer actions.
A love that would still see me as intelligent even while I helplessly crumpled into its arms,
A love that would marvel over my mind, yearning to be immortalised by my writing. 
A love that would view me as the future and not as an impediment when reading my old diaries,
A love that would uncover the most sinful parts of me and still call them home.

A love that would make me thank God for his mercy of making me hold onto hope at eighteen.

So despite the horror stories of my elders,
The rolled eyes, the begrudging comments about their husbands,
The haunting wounds I know will continue to be the price of love,
The pitfalls of “eternal” matrimony that I had witnessed all too well,
Well before I could even spell out L-O-V-E.

I still believe, 
                               believe, 
                                                  believe.

Believe in a love comparable to mine,
And dream up a love that may be foolish to some, but make perfect sense to others.