To the one who's waiting

An old poem, written in 2014 I believe. One of my very first tries at poetry that's meant to be spoken out loud; a jab at my own hopeless romantic self, the damsel in distress waiting to be saved. Life doesn't work that way.

*** poem might be edited in the meantime

To my 18 year old self,
pining away at the stories of Disney princesses,
I would often ask:

Are you done waiting?
Have you grown tired already?
Of listening for a phone jingle
that will never reach your ears,
the laptop light hurting your eyes
in the middle of the night,
facebook reflecting
in those glasses
no one's ever seen
you wear?

You poor, pathetic girl.

You're living in a feminist country
with the attitude of a damsel in distress.
Didn't even notice you had the power
to break the legs of your white horse,
that poor animal lying on the floor
as flat as your chest.

Yes, blame your chest,
blame your lips,
blame everything

except the curse of being a broken mess.
You could wear high heels and dresses
but still feel like a man.
Blame your shoulders,
blame your legs.

It was never your fault, no, we can't have that.
We can't drag ourselves in this game of self-blame.
You see girls with high heels and dresses everywhere,
a lover to their arm like some Gucci handbag.
You have always longer for that,
that gem-like glimmer
which only love could buy.
It's been on your wish list
since the day you were lonely.

So by the age of 20,
when you still hadn't kissed a boy before...

You blamed the opposite sex
for their nit-picky attitude,
the way they choose girls as if they've gone
... grocery shopping
looking for the best doughnut
to full-fill their needs.

It was just a coincidence
that you bumped into them
at the same department.
It was just a coincidence
that your cell phone fell,
the one you've been clutching so much
as if you could squeeze a text message
out of it like the last bit of toothpaste out of a tube.

You weren't waiting for someone else to give it back to you,
you weren't sketching scenarios in your head
of meeting your best friend and lover
at the peak of your desperation.

But today I'll tell you that you're a fool and a liar.
I'll tell you that you never stopped waiting,
never stopped dreaming
when you put that frown of a feminist
on your face, screaming:

"I don't need a man,
I'm an engineer,
I will marry my career!"

It didn't fit you,
your smile it oozed insecurity.
If men are only grocery shopping,
then you're just another woman
who's been searching for an item
to erase your pain,
like a body lotion to calm your skin,
or the anti-depressants you've been
swallowing each morning.

So go on, listen

for that jingle that never comes,
wait for that message that tickles
your pride but never cuddles your soul.
You're just another one waiting for a change,
you're just another one pretending to have changed.