The world wants a girl who is finished and fine,
A straight-edged drawing, a perfect, thin line.
But we are the clutter of half-finished dreams,
The laughter that’s ripping out all of the seams.
It’s not about brunch or the post or the pose,
Or the curated life that the gallery shows.
The truth is much smaller; it’s grit and grace,
It’s the bathroom light hitting a half-painted face.
A few of us crowded in front of one glass,
Watching the slow, random Tuesday pass.
A playlist on shuffle, the scent of setting spray,
And the “What should I tell him?” of every day.
You’re applying my liner, your hand never shakes,
Correcting the blur of my nervous mistakes.
They think we’re just getting ready to go,
To put on a costume and put on a show.
But we’re arming each other for things they don’t see,
For the struggle of simply just trying to be.
When I look back through the fog of the years,
It won’t be the parties, the lights, or the cheers.
It’s the sink, and the matcha, and you by my side,
The only people I never had to hide.
Because girlhood isn’t a dress or a curl,
It’s the “I’ve got you” that saves every girl.
Written By: –
Salha Harees
( University of Colombo)
