Straight No Chaser

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here's to a young woman who'd never intentionally do anything to hurt anybody. who, when she loves someone, never tires of telling them so. who can amuse herself with the tiniest bit of intellectual stimulation, and whose brain never slows down for a second. who is just as good at calculus as she is as five-paragraph essays. who can touch the back of her head with her toes. who has no problem dancing naked in her empty room. who would die to protect her little brother, or any of her friends. whose loyalty is boundless. who doesn't judge music by its genre, and is just as likely to experience ecstasy over neo-celtic clogging as she is over really good r&b. who's not pale enough to blush, but does it anyway when the moment calls for it. who has the collarbones of a prima ballerina and the hips of a sultry seductress. who's an insanely fast learner and always goes above and beyond for teachers who respect her. who can laugh and cry at the drop of a hat. who loves diamonds for their beauty and not their value. who's willing to try anything once for someone she loves, be it poetry or dancing or appletinis. who looks better in cool colors than in warm ones, but loves to wear pink anyway. whose knees touch, though her thighs don't. who eats vegetables like they're candy. who purrs when she's happy. whose eyes are so dark you can't distinguish the pupils. whose hipbones point suggestively downward. who speaks in circles but almost always comes back to her point. who finds magic in the simple things. who cares more about music than about clothes. who romanticizes the mundane. whose heart hurts whenever it can't contain the beauty of whatever she's experiencing. who writes almost exactly the way she thinks. whose breasts are small but nice, and will always be hers.

a young woman who's had it rough this semester, and misses home more than she ever thought she would. who looks in the mirror and sees every self-inflicted disaster she's ever experienced. who currently feels isolated and unwanted, and wonders how far she'd have to walk to get irrevocably lost in atlanta. who sometimes has to list her postive qualities to keep from forgetting they exist.

(me.)