Where the pretty ones live is where some want to be, posed or slouched so elegantly, chiffon dresses or satin clinging. Where the pretty ones live is where some want to spend some time, gracefully sipping champagne, for hours talking softly or romancing. Where the pretty ones live is where I found you, strong yet awkward, though slightly out of place,but, you were poised, you were prepared, you were honest and true, and, where the pretty ones exist is where we forged our intent, tenor and alto lines so rich and sweet, I couldn’t conjure such a melody, ours was of fantastical truth. Where the strongest survive is where we travelled to, once floundering, we now clung to each another, swept away from those beings, left them afar, and where the bravest reside, we carried ourselves with great courage, to rebuild bridges of our past insecurities into palatable platforms which were warm, serene, and inviting. We didn’t need the presence of pretty ones to make us feel complete, we had each other, and this was progress to be seen, through many an endless ocean, o’er many mountains, upon winding paths and cobblestone roads we would traverse, the pretty ones could heave and breathe their distaste and their bitterness, upon neither of us their jealous airs would be cast. Because, while pretty ones are interesting in the moment, we have advanced ourselves, refashioned our near-empty selves into stoic iron and mortar, we are no longer impressionable, weak, overly tender, through each other, we've found ourselves, alone or together, we are stronger because of the other. We no longer needed to listen to their gossip, indulgent hissed and giggled tales between champagne bubbles and sips of wine, no, no, my precious, we have made ourselves truly whole, we have made ourselves divine. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay
YouTube Poem videos: Lauren M. Hancock Poetry
