The trouble (and the beauty) of being single at this age is that I am me; idiosyncratically, unapologetically and to some extent inflexibly.
I am me now. This is my person. I built her. I like her. I am proud of her.
I refuse to smooth her down. To simplify her. To take away from her. To make her uncomplicated, is to break little bits off of her.
I refuse to settle her. To make her accept less. To love someone who only appreciates pieces of her. I refuse to make her be only one version of herself.
I can’t hold her when she is lonely. Or stand beside her when she is scared. I can’t take away the pain or fill the void of a man. But I can write to her and remind her; her incompatibility does not define her. I can love her, accept her and tell her, yes she can. I can make her feel beautiful everyday. I can look back at her naked, unfiltered face, approvingly. I can smile at her, without criticism, without something to say.
By, Wildcaught Word
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