a message to my daughter (with my eyes focused on orion's belt: aged 17)

December 17, 2013
If you love someone, I don’t recommend that you tell them because if they know they may try to love you back and that’s a mistake. Your heart is made of diamonds for a reason: it’s meant to reflect facets of care, of love and of enjoyment, but really, it’s broiling in the pressure of existence.
(He may try to woo you with a stone, on a band, on his knee is a dream. Don’t. Remember, you have precious gems throbbing inside your body's hollowest of holes.)

Don’t tell your story to them; as much as they may pry and release to you, do not allow yourself to falter simply because they swing you from knotted branches of the weeping willows, with your eyes elusive as his tries to search yours. (you push him away, you take your father’s legs and you sprint away,) Remain impassive, remain giddy as they begin to withdraw from existence.

Any tears that follow are normal.

(Your heart is of diamonds)

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