We are the difficult women. We pop our vitamins by ourselves every night and sleep with alarm clocks sans a snooze. Nobody wrote love songs on us, nobody noticed the mole on the lip. We volunteer for burden, handle the baggage, take the last word. We cover up your mistakes. We gave up fancy dreams to lighten those lines on their foreheads and get their glasses mended in an hour. We lower down the TV volume. We alter life with every tea and biscuit. We pick ourselves up, stitch our own wounds. We are the place we shoulder our head. Nobody offered us jacket in the cold. We are 20 something acting 45. We can fix the leaking tap. We're okay. We know love spelt backwards makes halfway through 'evolving'; and that’s what we're at. We always keep wine in stock. We've paid the price and made our peace. There are no lullabies, only piles of theories. There are no mushy texts, only to-do lists. We know cuts heal faster when nobody can see them and..and we're really difficult to love.
In a World full of easy tasks,
A woman hard to love
Human Potpourri