Self-Mutilation (Creative Expressions)

Sappy Poem Alert: Dear Future Husband

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So, I started writing this poem on Valentine’s Day. Surprise, surprise. Since then I have repeatedly picked it up and put it down (probably because of my love/hate relationship with my own sappy poems), and I decided to finally finish it this weekend. Again, because I’m a performance poet, it’s really meant to be performed, but who knows when I’ll see an open mic again, so I thought I’d share it with you because people are always asking me to put more of my poems on my blog. *Warning* This poem is probably as sentimental as you will ever see me get with the work that I release into the blogosphere, so I hope you enjoy it.

Dear Future Husband

Dear Future Husband,

Nestled within the crescent-moon cradle of God that trails me with no footprint

I scan the night sky for a glimpse of you, to no avail.

Star-gazing is a useless pastime in the life of city-slicker.

A brazen task, best left to the extremely patient, and I’ve never been one of them.

Still the thought of you is the lullaby that sings my heart to sleep

So, I talk to you in my dreams in anticipation of your descent into reality.

Warning you of your fate, while you still have time to prepare for me

Future Husband,

I am a wordsmith.

At any given moment I will vocalize the many creases of my mind like fast balls into the catcher’s mitt of your ear canal

You will hear me

But don’t be deafened by my artful amplification of empty syllables

Lectures are the love letters I’m too emotional to compose

The truth lies in the space between the words I write on the page that folds into the smile I flash for society’s cameras

My inscriptions may be indecipherable to the outside world

But you will know my heart-writing

Please take the time to read it.

Future Husband,

I am a sappy, weirdo nerd.

Hold my hand as we block the aisles at Barnes and Noble trading books like whispered secrets meant for our ears only.

I will know we are forever when you can choose titles for me.

FYI, I read the news in the wee hours of the morning

There will be times when you awake in the middle of the night to the sound of me crying, smudging the print of The New York Times as I reflect on the state of humanity

Dry my eyes and promise we’ll discuss it in the morning.

Future Husband,

I am an ambitious perfectionist

So I apologize in advance for my schedule

Know that my restlessness is not a commentary on your manhood

It is a manifestation of my womanhood–respect it.

Never mistake my ambition for ambivalence

I am always in search of more

Striving to make you proud to tell the world that I am yours

Future Husband,

I am insecure

Spent most of my life avoiding the runway life

Uncomfortable with my own stride, even as I strived to live my life in flight

Hoping that maybe if they saw me soar, they’d forget about my broken wings

And I could be fly by choice, if not by commercial design

Because although I know my beauty goes beyond the surface

I also know the value of appearances

And most days I’m not sure I can keep up

But because I know you came from where God lives

Hopefully, you’ll love me regardless of my physical flaws, lack of fashion sense and acne scars

Future Husband,

I pray that you are strong enough to be weak

Big enough to never need to make another feel small

Rich enough to pour yourself into the service of others in gratitude

Selfish enough to share yourself with me completely

Humble enough to be proud

Proud enough to seek and accept help

Confident enough to laugh at yourself

And grounded enough to soar

But most of all, I hope to be all of these things and more to you…


Your Future Wife


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