Love Song

I’m not the sundress donning,
lip gloss wearing,
loose curls toting,
easy smiling girl.
I’ve never been the head in the clouds.
I’ve never been the skipping-through-daisies
I was never the carefree, full of life, character that I tried so hard to be.

I wanted to be a girl from a love song;
any love song.
The one about the lifelong childhood friend,
the girl with all the hope,
the girl who moves away
or the girl who gets hurt,
but then he says sorry.
Even the one about the weak girl who needed him
because of loss or poverty or cancer.
The girl he loves so much…
because she’s perfect.

I’m not that girl.
I tried so hard to be.
Until I realized I don’t skip like a Daisy.
Instead I plant my feet with every step,
the weight of all that I am
turns me into a mountain
immovable but so alive
with so much stirring inside…
too much to fit into a love song.

If I was a melody it would bellow.
My identity,
my strength,
my pride,
would shake the ground below me.
It would not be pleasing for the ear…
because I’m not the girl in a love song.

I wanted to be easy listening,
and yellow sunflowers.
Instead I’m a forest…
complex, endless.
My trees are towering, my weeds relentless.
I wanted to swing in the wind.
sway with every breeze.
Instead I move,
and everything sways around me.

No one ever wrote a love song about me
So I wrote it instead.

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