The Girl

(Extended Title: The Girl with Long Blond Hair Who has No Idea How Much She Is In My Eyes)

Copyright Julia Bydulia

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My words can be knots:
tight bound and hurtful when thrown,
but I wanted to remind you
that knots do come untied and
I have a horrible throwing arm.

You're like the leaves that
tumble from autumn's branches:
soft under eyes and under hands
with a spectrum of colors.
You are carried on the winds
that are unpredictable and uneven
but I know you'll go far.

My heart can go crazy
and seems to have a mind of its own
so don't mind it
if it ever tries to dance with yours.
It's only being friendly.

You're like the walls of a museum:
beautiful and strong with
feelings of neglect, but you have to know
that you deserve more than just
pressure from people you support.
You'll make it when the art gets moved
and makes the room for you to shine through.

My words can go unnoticed or
be misinterpreted, as words are known to be,
but you should know
that I mean them all as they are
and will repeat them as required.

You are like a promise:
bound by words and minds
and the metaphysical
rather than the sticks and stones
that knock the rest of the world down
and hold them to the ground
while you stand tall, admirable.