TRACES SPRING 2016 - Page 6

A Note To My Secret Admirer

No. You don't get to stand there and joke to your puerile friends about the way that she curled her hair today, or the way that you can see a centimeter of her stomach every time she stretches her arms.

No, you don't get to stand there and gawk over the way she walks, or the natural parts of her body that makes up who she is, or ask more of her than she's willing to give.

No, you don't get to stand there, whistling at her with your horrid lips, and expect her to react like you’re some saint or something; or every time you're near her, make sure she knows that you're totally obsessed with her being.

No, you don't get to shame her for being everything that you aren't, beautiful and intelligent, and a wondrous work of art; or shame her into being the definition of attention.

But most of all, you don't get to stand there and pretend that no one sees the way you belittle and hound her, because being that girl, I see everything.

Madi Bruni