Poetry (62)

Hello Escritori,

I felt extremely angsty when I wrote this. I’m sure that by Sunday the original impetus will have exhausted itself, but sometimes I feel like everyone I meet has nothing but milk for blood and very little decisiveness and soul about what they want: despite being adults.

The White Room Finale will be on the blog on Tuesday.

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Kind of… Girl?

I am the kind of girl

Who won’t be other

Than clever, and playful:

Who’ll make a worthy

Anecdote

Out of an average day.

And  who drinks milk

Out of a champagne flute

On her birthday.

 

I am the kind of girl

Who only buys shoes

She can run in.

And has friends

For whom she’d take a bullet.

(No thinking,

Or blinking about it.)

 

I am the kind of girl

Who won’t bear

Under-appreciation,

For honest efforts.

Who loves more fiercely

Than hate can reach

Who thinks, acts, moves and speaks

Intensely. Without apology.

Who will see your boundaries

But gently, teach.

 

I am the kind of girl

Who cares.

So sue me.

For better or worse,

I live passionately.

 

Upon looking,

If you only ever saw a girl

And not a woman,

Then, clearly, you never knew me.

 

(© Copyright Pola Negri, 02/10/2016.)

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