The kind of girl

I wonder if anyone’s listening,
if anyone other than me will ever read these words.
Will anyone ever read them and wonder
who wrote them?
Whose mind believed in these truths?
Whose heart cried out through these lines?
Whose soul was laid bare by the words on this page?
Whose past haunted every step, clouded every thought that entered her mind?
Who was this girl?
What life did she live?
Did she believe in herself?
Did she walk with her head high, because she knew she was worth something?
Was she the kind of girl who offered a smile as a promise?
The kind of girl that would offer kindness to a stranger?
Was she a girl who liked blue or red?
I bet she liked ice cream with caramel sauce, and her grandmothers strawberry jam.
I bet she like to catch snowflakes on her tongue, even when her friends laughed at her.
I bet she danced in the rain, loved a good storm, and read stupid romance novels because she dreamed of love.
I bet she was the kind of girl who dreamed of a prince charming, and believed in castles, and unicorns and magic. I bet she even put on stupid magic shows for her little brothers birthday parties.
I wonder if anyone ever took the time to believe with her?
I wonder if anyone ever looked into her eyes on a moonlit night, and drowned in their sparkling depths?
I wonder if she ever looked in the mirror and liked what she saw? Was she proud of who she was?
Did she even know who she was?
When she wrote the words, was she seeking? Questioning? Or did she already have the answers?
I bet she’s the kind of girl who loved a good book, and lost her heart to a good song. The kind of girl who lived with everything she had, who loved life, who dreamed, and hoped, and danced as if every dance was her last dance.
I wonder why a girl like that had to write those things on a page?
Didn’t she think anyone else could find them?
Do we ever find them? I haven’t yet, or I wouldn’t be reading about her.