Dressed up
Nails all done
Still sitting on the edge of my bed staring into space.
Catch her on a different day
She's a whirlwind
Uncontained glee inside a bedhead little monster.
And you just can't choose which version of me, shines brighter.
Oh but it's not just about me or her
But about every other,
growing girl
Who knows that different days have different versions.
Into womanhood you enter
And is it Romantic
The warmth of a-
heating pad
Bet you thought I'd say "lovers hand"
But that's the beauty of it
Realising that maybe bitter is sweet
Do I make sense?
No worries, I'm sure my girlies understand
It's coffee, and bitter chocolate I talk about
Maybe add golden liquor and cigarettes to that list,
Not saying that I've tried them all
But a girl growing can take her own call.
She wants tattoos and piercings and coloured hair,
Midnight randezvous
No shenanigans to spare.
There's no set square.
She could already be done all that
Or done nothing at all
You see,
Girl growing shall do whatever she wants.
Even between girls who've never met,
Are passed knowing smiles
'Cus girls growing,
They seem to relate.
Make an enemy of one
Yet she'll lend you a skirt
If yours is stained red.
This, only girls growing would understand.
A/N
As they read this poem, my girlies will role their eyes,
But I hope they'll understad
That's its my mind -that wanderer
at fault for making the poem hard to understand.
Still I bet there'll be hints of smiles when your eyes glance over 'heating pad'.
Byee my lovelies see ya soon.
P.s. Love to CharviVyas who triggered this whole poem
Also the artwork at top is not mine
