Home Poetry Your Type

Your Type

by Stephanie Alfaia

If you grow up the type of woman men want to look at,
You can let them look at you.
But do not mistake eyes for hands,
Or windows for mirrors.
Let them see what a woman looks like.
They may have never seen one before.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to touch,
You can let them touch you.
Sometimes it is not you they are reaching for.
Sometimes it is a bottle, an adrenaline rush, a sandwich, success, another woman –
But their hands found you first.
Do not mistake yourself for a guardian, or a muse, or a promise, or a victim, or a snack.

You are a woman –
Skin and bones, veins and nerves, hair, sweat and curves
You are not made of metaphors,
Not gray areas, not apologies, not excuses.

If you grow up the type of woman men want to hold,
You can let them hold you.
All day they practice standing up straight,
Even after all this evolving it still feels unnatural,
Still strains the muscles, aching shoulders and spine.
Only some men will want to learn what it feels like to curl themselves
Into a question mark around you,
Admit they don’t have the answers they thought they would by now.
Some men will want to hold you like the answer.
You are not the answer.
You are not the problem.
You are not the poem, or the punchline, or the riddle, or the joke.

Woman, if you grow up the type of woman men want to love,
You can let them love you.
Being loved is not the same thing as loving.
When you fall in love,
You are discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping.
You are realizing you have eyes.
You are seeing in color after years of grey area.

Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of woman men will hurt.
If he leaves you filled with emptiness,
Learn to sing.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean,
Even after it’s left you gasping, salty.
So forgive yourself for the decisions you’ve made,
The ones you call mistakes when you tuck them in at night,
And know this.
Know you are the type of woman who can build on your own.
You were born to build.
So let the mask crumble,
Let the world uproar,
Because you have the power to create.
To give life.
Know you are the epitome of transformation.
You are pliable, expandable.
You adapt.
You are maiden, mother, and crone.

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