Respect is Earned

You have my respect.

Because you can say that my ass does look fat in those jeans.
Because you can get past that annoying level with that annoying boss with ease.
Because you can look me in the eye.
Because you put me first.
Because you empathise with me.
Because you are the most patient person I know.
Because you are not ashamed to show your bashfulness.
Because your honesty bites.
Because you hardly say thanks for a meal, but your eyes occasionaly spark with joy from it which is more than any amount of words could manage.
Because you always forget not to call me 'Babe'. (Like the pig.) And because I don't really mind at all :P





Tantta



Yours is the room I run to when I break down, the clothes I smell and cling to to remember who I am
And the food I eat when I feel homesick.
You are the person I need to not need.
You are the bane of my existance and all of my current knowledge.
You are all the spelling mistakes I notice, the shirts I borrow when I want to look grown-up
But not my first pair of high heels.
In autumn we sit and recall fond memories, (usually over a glass of wine and something roasted)
And we have watched the seasons changing.
In you I see my own failings, in a sort of perverse way I guess.. I suppose.. I theorise.
Every time I could have, I refused. Now you can be smug.
You are my hatred, infectious bitch.
You spawned this person, you made me
Me.
But you are still stuck mimmicking your own voice in my head,
You are still wiping my nose
And checking my fever.
I bow to you.