You have tried to be more of a woman
because that’s what he wanted,
You tried your best to be prettier,
less absurd and more tame than wild.
But darling, you simply
make someone love you.
You cannot make someone stay.
You tried your best to be more of a woman
when you were already all the woman
you could possibly hope to be
The truth is that you cannot settle.
For it is so much better to face
a little bit of loneliness
than a lifetime with the wrong person.
In truth, I am waiting for the apologies
that you owe to yourself,
the desperate beg for forgiveness
to the magical body
that has kept you alive.
Far too often you point your fingers
at the flaws you believe you find,
too often you viciously tear down
when you should appreciate.
Tell your sweet legs you love them
for the winding roads they have walked you down,
tell your arms
just how thankful you will remain
for all they have helped you carry.
I cannot abide the insults
hurled at the body,
that holds you;
each piece is perfect
and deserves to be professed as such.
It’s pretty funny,
how we are taught that
is this tangible place,
the simplest definition of the term.
It’s a country,
A yet sometimes we find that home cannot be explained
by a mere street number;
Sometimes it’s a loving face, a quiet voice,
a laugh so much more honest and familiar
than any truth you have ever known.
We are taught that in the most literal sense,
home is where we live our lives and grow.
But one day, in the soft silence that listlessly trails
after nostalgic stories of old and subsequent laughter,
you may just find that you never in your life did more living
than when you had certain people by your side.
You are home.