For the girls.

I write for the girls

The ones who carry the sun in their strides and constellations in their very existence.

I once knew of a girl, whose head carried dancing eyes, they would twirl and twerk. They had the floaty hazy laziness of people who have known so little love and yet able to give that which they have never received. Often times I wonder if they have seen enough darkness to halt their dance, I hope not.

I now know of a girl, whose smile is able to light up a thousand candles for all the dead souls. She smiles like it’s an art, it reaches her eyes, a full welcoming smile, ready to swallow your sadness and give you some of it’s light. It’s a smile of one who has known so little happiness in life and yet eager to compensate with sunny rosy genuine smiles. I hope she never sees enough sadness to dim her smile.

I know of girls, who wear a resting bitch face like an armor. With sad sad faces and the light in their eyes turned down low, in fact so low that you can barely know life resides here. But deep within are a million galaxies, unlit pitch dark galaxies.

Dear child, the dark is beautiful too.