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PnAyDsiRe82
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Name: floriesa
Birthday: 7/9/1986
Gender: Female
Interests: ♥
Expertise: being me.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Other
Member Since:
6/20/2004
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| i think i'm gonna delete this blog. it's time to move on....
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Beautifully Brown
I am a woman,
Brown skin,
Slanted eyes,
With a soul that soars beyond the skies.
Make-up on,
My pretty face,
It’s necessary,
My sisters say.
Keeps me young,
Face shines bright,
So I buy,
This superficial joy.
Black hair,
Flat nose,
My body slim,
These features are never good enough for him.
Who am I,
I know very well,
I’m the beautiful brown woman,
Can’t you tell.
Make-up,
Is make believe,
Stop making me think,
That this is true beauty.
Buy my sisters,
Overseas,
But please know,
That your standards of beauty will never buy me
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if you want me to trust you don't lie to my face as if i'm some fool. i'm not.
i do not deserve that. i should not have to question "us". i should not have to question you. time and time again i've given you the opportunity to prove that you have a good heart with good intentions. unfortunately, you take these opportunities for granted, let alone you take ME for granted, and have let this relationship fall from hopeful to hopeless. i'm not so sure how to say good bye because i felt like you've abandoned me a long time ago. i'm sorry. i am so sorry.
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| womp, womp. scratch that. what is privacy when we expose every detail of our lives online? we discuss our innermost loves and hates, but in reality what's the point of doing that? it's the product of wanting to feel significant. we're all so consumed in the desire of being a somebody that we forget that it's ok to privatize one's feelings or direct it to someone whom it needs to be directed to. why do we need to internet to help us sympathize with one another? what happened to the old-fashioned conversation where we used to actually interact with one another? be real. you're only dehumanizing yourself. | | |
| who ever said i stopped writing?
'cause you'll probably never read this. but, it's ok =)
make me write, make me write.
i want to write about you.
about me.
about why we coexist.
you are the manifestation of desire.
how you're a simple,
every day decompresser,
and i can just forget.
that there was anyone else in this world who's half the man you are.
better yet,
half the person.
you've opened my eyes because yours were already opened.
you've made me question because you knew all the answers.
you left me because i needed growth.
why does this anxiety restrict my breathing,
and only when i'm with you they're expelled.
you relieve me of my nostalgia to make it real again,
because something was right.
but we are so intangible,
don't walk away again.
somehow life,
lust,
or love conspires amongst one another to make us go about our daily routines.
then throws in a tangent to bring us back to an instance.
especially where it makes me want to write about you.
you have been the best idea on paper as of recently.
i haven't been so complacent by being away from someone.
especially since you're not mine.
so i'll just admire from afar.
that's what i'm used to i suppose.
because i've come to believe that this is beautiful.
and if there were a we,
we wouldn't be running in circles
we would complete the one that i've presumed all along.
and then this would all be so simple.
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