‪#‎Note to him...

I know I’m not your type
Not that girl...with wide hips and hugging jeans
I’m just the girl with wide eyes hugging my journal
Reciting my thoughts to blue black inkblots on a white canvas
I know I’m not your type
You know the kind with catwalk confidence and charisma
I’m just the girl walking silently as the cat
Hoping to escape the crowd's gaze
So I can confidently tuck my thoughts in between these pages before my mind walls rise
So I can smile to their charismatic indulgences in the serenity of the self -thoughts of when I met you in my thoughts
Introduced you to the crimson coloured sky
As when we ran barefooted to our happily ever after
If only for that moment fairy tales existed
But I’m not your type
So I snap back to reality
Back to the truth
Because I’m not that girl willing to get entangled by white sheets
Held prisoner in invisible stains of sin and deceit
I’m just the girl washed clean by the blood
Whiter than any sheets
Having rubbed off the scarlet letter around my neck
I’m the girl at the cross
Waiting diligently
Waiting for daybreak like the night watchman waits for morning
Waiting for my Adam to finally rise up
Know that I am his your type
And will both recite these poems found in locked hands
Rocking back and forth the past and future
Yet still locked in the present innocence accompanied by locked gazes
With beaming faces and giggles as a lace
I am the girl who doesn’t have to be your type
Just the woman you never wanted to admit you needed
One sent by God to you.

By Dangie Pheto (Botswana).

picture credits: www. cindy-saul.blogspot.com