I Worry For Her......

I do not always know who she is. Everyday she surprises me.

There are days when she wakes up but wanting to go back to sleep because dreams are so real and there she finds her peace. Some days she just wants to sleep forever. Some days, she fails to recognize the person in the mirror before her. She feels unfamiliar to herself. She worries me a lot. Her manners of being worry me a lot.

Some days she is fragile and dejected, aggravated and agitated, crammed with fury and qualm about what she should do next, what is next? Her clueless ness worries me everyday, she wants something but she can’t put a finger to it. She is scared to want again. To love again.

Some days she is content with herself and it shows. She is assured and assertive and she gives the ambiance which attracts a whole lot of honey bees. Some days she wears triumph and pleasure and all who approach her envy her fragrance. All in all, some days are certain and she knows that if she walks the line of her dreams, God will lead it into her reality. Those days she worries me more, because her assurances don’t have a wall and it might anytime fall.

Some days she is more beautiful than the most beautiful that lay spread across the centre-spreads of magazines, and her deep brown eyes reveal all of the vividness and virtuosity of the world. Other days, she feels broken, out of place and refuses to leave the comfort of the walls of her bedroom. Apart from the many times she finds herself being carried away by her physical appeal, she always stays true to what is on the inside. On the inside, she is glows the sun golden. She is deeper than the deep blue sea and that is when she worries me, she will drown in her own ambiguity.

There are days when she laughs so hard that she fills her eyes with tears. The room she occupies shines with the sound of pleasure and delight. Some days, she will let everyone laugh at her at her expense, and she will laugh will laugh with them. The light on people’s faces and lives brings her great happiness and she could never ask for anything more. She is a people’s person, that worries me, she cannot handle people, she is too naïve.

Some days she loves like there is no love tomorrow. Other days, she lusts. The lust is much resilient than love, and much less tolerant. Her lust leads her into the dense and angry grasp of regret and that is when she worries me she will land in the thorns and miss the roses.

Some days she hurts, some days she heals. Some days she smiles, some days she weeps. Some days she is in the sewer, some days she discos in the sun. Some days she picks an imaginary lover, some days she prefers to rewind her essence. Some days she holds on to herself and cry out loud, some days she lets her tears storm within her and she puts on a brave face to tease people off. Some days she survives, some days she dies, she worries me so much, I am afraid she does not know where she is headed.

I know who she is but I still do not know who she is.

I worry for her she has forgotten to worry for herself.

Everyday she gives me a new worry, everyday I wish I knew what has gotten into her.