for someday

To the girl with soft eyes who will someday wear her father's name at the end of the one we compromised between classic-Biblical and trendy-youth,

You are surrounded by liars and wicked smiles coated in sugar,

but sugar only tastes good on delicious things, little girl.

You're going to see yourself in the mirror as somebody's best friend,

somebody's safeguarded secret-keeper,

the potential lover on the other end of his phone,

somebody's tear-jerker whose going to cry herself silly on Friday nights

because depression was hereditary, but the "attention whore" titles triggered it.

Whatever you see in that mirror, little girl, I pray that it's not

somebody's half-loved daughter.

Because you are mine and even if the glass is filled 50% with water,

the other 50% is oxygen, therefore the glass is never truly empty.

The hallways monitors are not your friends,

and neither are the well-dressed who leave their extra dirt on your desk

yet criticize the muddy footprints you dragged into the room.

But if we're being literal,

you don't need a jersey on your back to line the stadium.

Get as close to the basketball court as you can.

Smiles are like the artificial flavoring on people's faces.

Don't fall in love with people who go to bed early.

Caffeine is not the one.

Karaoke nights are.

Order chips and salsa at Chili's.

Your metabolism will take care of you for a little while.

But your legs will always be too small.

Ask the girl with sad eyes if she wants your lunch.

Get your first kiss on the front porch and never let it leave.

Chop all your hair off and hurdle through the false compliments.

Bite your tongue when the girl with sneering eyes talks about her talents.

And never cry to the mirror that will someday hold a shattered mess of your insecurities,

forgotten pimples and the earphone images of that uncoordinated dancing that 

might be the refuge of junior high insomnia.

And I love you.