Date a poet.

Date a poet.

Date a man who spends more time admiring the nook of your neck looking for inspiration than spending hours in front of his television set. Date him for his ruffled pages and crumpled clothes because even when you are tired and a complete mess, his words will find your beauty in spaces where you thought there was none.

Date a poet because he will quote to you the likes of Tennyson and Cummings with the poise of a golden deer. And when Keats won’t be enough he’ll write you his own love poems. For you to hold on to long after his remnants are gone.

Date a poet because he knows what vulnerable is, and will turn every moment worth remembering into couplets of memory. That you can relive when you miss him. Date him for his strong hands that have bled to bring to life, poems that he will never truly love. Date a poet because he will never let you sleep over a fight; instead he will write you a haiku and you will smile. Even when you are clenching your teeth with anger, and even in moments you despise him. You will blush like a girl kissed in the rain, by the boy her mother warned her about.

Date a poet because in coffee shops he will pass you love notes scribbled on tissue paper. And you will have to order one cup after another because he wouldn’t stop talking about his day, and you will smile because you are in deep trouble. In stupid love, with a poet. Date a poet because no one else can put in words the answer to the question, ‘Why do you love me?’ like he does.

Date a poet because he will read to you the genius of Frost. And in time you’ll know that if you had to perish twice, his words are enough and will suffice. Date a poet because his heart will flutter not when he sees a beautiful girl, but when he catches a glimpse of his favourite author in a bookstore. Date a poet because it is easy to buy him gifts, for his birthday get him a Neruda and a Virginia Woolf for the anniversary. And just as a surprise throw in a Manto for he loves a short story.

Show him your flaws and broken pieces because he understands that sometimes poems don’t rhyme but that they are no less melodious or beautiful. Tell him no lies because he doesn’t believe in black and white. That ‘b’ doesn’t always follow ‘a’ because rhyme schemes like people are imperfect. Date a poet because when you hurt and fail him, he will know better than to hurt you back. Instead he will soothe you with metaphors and in alliterations he will, profess how much he loves you. Date a poet because the year when you can’t take a holiday he will drown you in imagery, the kind that you won’t need eyes to see. Date a poet because he will make you his poetry and you will hate when he writes about you and you will hate when he stops.

He won’t propose at a candlelight dinner. You will not find a ring in the cake. He will ask you to marry him in bed, after you’ve cuddled with him all night. He will ask you to do it for the rest of your life. And you will smile. Because you are in stupid love, with a poet.

Poets may or may not always look like this. It is only representative in nature and mostly wishful thinking.

All for Good Karma

I've been counting the lines on the back of my hand 
Again and again and again. 
They say every seven years all the cells in our body are completely replaced 
It's my only solace 
To know that in seven years even my body will be a stranger to you.

I've been lighting candles 
That went out,  perhaps as a sign of prayers that won't be answered
and apprehensions that were yet to find peace
But I light them, hoping that someday there will be someone
Who'll see my flame go out
And rush to cup their hands around me
Patiently waiting for me to be bright again.

I've been buying books 
The kind you can touch and caress 
In bookstores around the cities that we met in 
Amidst the empty aisles I leave notes 
Of hope. 
Wishing, that you find them before it's shut down
Before it is completely replaced by 
a version of itself it doesn't fully recognize.

I've been giving in forms I only learnt now 
In between learning to breath fully
I try to find meaning 
In the stories of people I'll never truly know
And I'm dying to tell you that a girl went to school today 
Because I spent a night sending emails to friends and acquaintance alike
Asking for my trust in humanity to be restored 
But I'll tell you, I'm done with believing

I've been wishing on shooting stars
and waiting for the clock to strike 11.11
But I've been doing that for too long now
I don't think it works. 
I don't think I really know the difference 
Between what is real and superficial anymore
And superstition is better than faith.

I've been building paper birds 
Because a 1000 of them,  are more than 2 and with each I tie a wish for you 
And from afar you can't really tell if they are paper or flesh. 
If they are happy or sad. 
From this far you can't tell anything
And I'm letting them go for good karma
But this time I won't wait by the window. 
They'll just fly in whenever they please 
This time more real than before.

And the Winner is...

My blog completed 4 years this June and i decided to have a giveaway this year as penance for ignoring my blog for long periods of time. A very big thank you for all those who took part, and all those who have encouraging words to say on everything I write. This blog has been my 'go-to place' for the last 4 years and I couldn't be more thankful.

I have met amazing people, read some beautiful things and learnt and grown I believe as a person first and as someone who writes later. 

A very BIG THANK YOU if you are reading this. It is a lie, if someone says they write for themselves, because else it wouldn't be up on the internet. So I write for connections I make through it, for the pleasure of being able to express and share and sometimes that word of praise that can keep me glowing for days!

The winners of the giveaway are:

Congratulations Guys! Please check your email and send me your address! :D

Chance Meetings

Like most of my grandeur time commitment promises my blog everyday month is already running out of creative juices. So here I am, being technically correct. You know, technically. But not absolutely. So here is a story I had written a long time ago, but it was never posted here, though it was shared on Darlings of Venus. So here it is technically for the first time! Yay? Okay I'm horrible I will try harder. But atleast it has fewer grammatical errors this time? Yay? Nay? 

As penance I wish to offer some goodies at my 4 Year Blogoversary Giveaway. Heehee.

______________________________________________________________________________________

Leaving all the unhappiness behind she was going to New York, to get some perception. To fall in love the Carrie Bradshaw way, to find a way back to her happier bubbly self again. She was early for her flight like always, always so organised, always so in control. She was never late for anything
*Flight no 8547 to New York leaving at 14:00 hours has been delayed by 2 hours, the inconvenience caused is regretted*
As the announcement echoed around the airport, Sia let out a deep sigh and cursed her OCD for bringing her so early to the airport. She had 3 hours to kill now before the check-in would start. She called her mother to let her know of the delay .

"Amma the flight is going to be late"

"I don't know why Amma."

"How can I come back home, what do you mean why do I want to go anyway "

"Seri seri, Bye Amma. I'll miss you too "
Sia looked around for a book shop to engage her time, what she spotted instead was a cafe, she decided settle there and exploit the free Wi-Fi while she waited. Just as she was about to sip her coffee and open Cosmo Online on her laptop, a lady came upto her and asked if she could sit with her, as there was no place in the cafe. Sia gave her a warm smile and asked her to have a seat. Sia never let go the chance for a conversation.

"So you're going to New York too?" Sia enquired.

"No, London. My flight is in an hour, these delays." the lady said with an annoyed expression.

"Oh great! I'm Sia and you?"

"Krishna Pai." the lady replied already troubled with Sia's questions.

Sia went back to her reading and suddenly she had tears rolling down her eyes. Krishna was taken aback when she saw Sia crying." 

What's wrong ? " Krishna asked more out of politeness than interest.

"Well I just read a story online and it made me miss my ex -boyfriend. We broke up last month." Sia said still sobbing.
"Oh." Krishna said with complete lack of interest now.

"How are you so insensitive, the least you can say is, it'll be okay?" Sia said a little hurt.

"No, it won't be okay because you have chosen to cry over it and not move on. You hurt yourself, no one else is or can be the reason for your pain."

"Err." Sia had now stopped crying and was amazed at how rude strangers can be.

"I'm sorry, see I have seen a lot of  pain in my life so when I see teenagers crying over silly breakups and unimportant fights it angers me." Krishna said a little calmly now.

"Like what?" the ever curious Sia pestered.

"My 2 year old son has EB. It is a skin disease which occurs in 50 out of one million, even less most of the time. My child cannot go out and play like normal kids. He cannot hug or cuddle with me without feeling immense pain, he cannot enjoy a shower without crying his eyes out. But yet he smiles when I call out to him, he laughs when we fool around in front of him and he tries to accept his pain everyday. He is my hero, he smiles though all he feels is immense pain. There is no cure for this disease, but I'm hoping there will be one, pretty soon. My husband left me because he couldn't handle all my attention being devoted to our child and he couldn't afford all the hospital bills. He didn't want to be responsible for something his sperm created. So here I am, I have quit my job and now am putting all my time into getting my baby out of his misery."
"I'm so sorry." Sia said

"Why are you being sorry? Don't sympathize with me, I wouldn't want to have it any other way. I love my baby and he is the best child any mother could have asked for. No matter what and he's an angel." said Krishna with a motherly smile.

"I'm sure he is, so is he in London?" Sia asked not knowing what to say next. When in doubt, ask questions was her motto.

"No, he's here in India with my mother for some days. I'm going to meet a few doctors about his case, maybe his condition can be controlled." Krishna explained.

"Oh, I hope it works out for him. God bless him." said Sia with a wry smile.
*Passengers of Flight no 96541 leaving for London at 15:00 hours are requested to enter the boarding area. Thank you*
"Ok thats me, bye dear. Take care." Krishna said as she put on her coat and and flung her handbag on her shoulder.

"You too." is all Sia could say.

Just as Sia was pondering on everything Krishna had said she noticed something on the floor that had probably fallen from Krishna's bag. It was a visiting card:

Krishna Pai

Lawyer

B.A LLB , PHD in Human Psychology 

Contact no : 32313456

Sia kept the card in her bag and for a moment smiled, maybe she would meet Krishna again someday.

Love Socially

That poem you shared the other day
On your blog
Did you have me in mind when you hit *publish*?
Tell me, is it true? I’m not trying to fish.

The Tweet you RTed at 9 o’clock last night;
about your hand in mine
Entwined like two beautiful trees trying to stay apart but failing.
Should I have taken that as a sign?

On Instagram
You said, “I make you happy”
Or is just the comments that followed
Or the publicity

On Facebook you said you loved me truly.
I was feeling ‘fly’.
Until that girl from next door said,
something about my mismatched hair-tie

On Snapchat you send me selfies,
of you and everyone around.
From when you left home for work,
to until you were in your night gown

But amidst all the social networks
I really wonder why?
Love needs to find expression in words and emoticons.
When all it really takes is for you
to stand beside me and look me in the eye.

This post is a part of my attempt to blog everyday for a month on the occasion of my blog completing 4 years :D Also there is a GIVEAWAY so do participate and win awesome things!

Privilege

Privilege

(noun)

;a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group.

"education is a right, not a privilege" 

synonyms: advantage, right, benefit, prerogative, entitlement, birthright, due;

I come from a humble family, of generations of service goers. My mother gave me a book each time I was good or bad, she said it helped in any case.  A book for when I failed and a book for every successful milestone. A book for when I came first in class and a book for when I lied. She taught me even what she herself had never learnt. To be born not with a silver spoon in your mouth but with books in your blood and so much potential in your soul is a privilege indeed.  

I went to one of the best schools in the city of Mumbai, followed by a college that exposed me to people I admired and wanted to ape at the same time. The achievers, the intellects, the poets and the occasional genius. I was a graduate in accountancy by 2013 and before you put me off as someone who would be good only with numbers, let me tell you I count on my fingers. I was privileged to have a light to read by, a book that was not snatched away from me by force or circumstance and parents that pushed me to be my best.  

But there are children all around us, that are never able to see their true potential or ever hold a book. And it drives me, because I feel responsible. I feel the need to be involved and stop criticizing a system from the sidelines that I may not completely understand yet. I feel responsible as an educated adult, with so much to give back. As clique as it sounds, I wish to make a difference. I learnt at the age of 3 that a nuclear family is not one which is dis-joint but one which has learnt to love from a distance. And we've been ignoring our less privileged families for too long. The disparity in India scares me and makes me wonder how many people go to sleep hungry only because they were born into a different family than mine. Destined by birth to starve. I look at children and believe each of them is turning into a story worth telling, and if I can only be a facilitator in this journey. To change the life of someone who was never taught right from wrong is perhaps the biggest privilege.

I've just applied to mentor an underprivileged child you can too. Join the Green Batti Project.

This post is a part of my attempt to blog everyday for a month on the occasion of my blog completing 4 years :D Also there is a GIVEAWAY so do participate and win awesome things!

4 Year Anniversary Giveaway

Hello! *voice echoes in empty corridors of emptiness*

If anyone is still here, listening and reading my monologues and conversations with self, you are invited to a PARTY!!! My blog completes 4 glorious strictly ordinary years this June, and I'm going to have a WAIT FOR IT...giveaway!

Mario Miranda cartoons are the love of my life! So the prize for the giveaway was obvious!

4 Year Anniversary Giveaway

The Rules are simple.

- Visit the Definitely, Maybe* Facebook page

- Follow me on Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest

- Share the link to my blog for bonus points!

Each such entry earns you some points, based on which a very smart software will pick the winners at random

1st Winner gets a Mario Miranda Novelty Mug

2nd Winner gets 2 sets of Mario Miranda postcards, which are just beautiful. Let's get to letter writing again!

3rd Winner - This is really special. I am going to Bangkok next week, and the third winner will get a special gift which I will be getting from Bangkok! (So can't specify what exactly)

Tadaaaa! So take part right now. Contest closes on 30th June and winners will be announced on 3rd July.

PS: Since it's anniversary month, and my blog has been ignored for most part of last year. I am going to  try to blog everyday, starting today till 30th June, So join me, and take up the challenge?

Mum is the word.

When I was younger and someone said “You are just like your mother”, I would retaliate with a resounding “NO!”

It took me 23 years to know that my mother is the most beautiful woman I will ever know; that the first face I had recognized was of the person who would make me her world for the rest of her life. Some women are natural mothers, my mother is super-natural. No, really!

She is not the typical can-find-anything-that-is-lost (which she can), or the Bollywood inspired who knows when you are only steps away from home (which she does) but she's been unconventional in so many ways. She’s always been some kind of helicopter mother; and I had issues with that, obviously. But that is the beauty of a mother-daughter relationship; one doesn’t want to be anything like the other, while the other is always looking out to see that it never happens. “Don’t make the mistakes that I made” she says very nostalgically. But somewhere along this road, there is a chance of finding a beautiful friendship, of never ever needing a best friend again. Of never worrying about hurting someone so much that they would never speak to you again, even if they say so in the moment. The chance that you may never have to go to the movies alone. The chance that on the day you walk in with  your hair dyed electric blue  instead of a raging fit all you get is, "Its... different." 

Just like any two people who care about each other, we fight a lot, shout and scream. But the optimism with which we share ice-cream later is a tiny miracle. My mother is the glue that holds our family together, a go-to person for almost everyone in the house. In a world where children should be tied to their beds in chains, my mother never said no for anything, all she said was “Do what’s right for you” -so if you think going for a sleepover only a day before the most crucial exam of your life is the thing to do, so be it. She is my 1st expert for everything, my first example and inspiration for carrying myself into the world and its wide possibilities. For what am I if not a summation of her qualities?

On my birthdays, she wouldn’t buy me dolls or chocolates, she would buy books. On my report day, she wouldn’t be in a hurry to leave, but she would meet ALL the teachers, which was usually followed by getting me the bribe she knew I didn’t need to score well. On my graduation day, she cried and on the first overnight trip she ever sent me for, she called to ask “Can you sleep without me?” Even though my father still thinks I am 3 years old, my mother always treated me like an adult, but there are still those“You are still too young for….” arguments.

The first time I brought a guy home, she decided to shove a family-tree-scrapbook I made in 5thGrade in his face and explained to him where exactly he would fit in. And that led to the most awkward conversation of my life where I had to explain to my naïve mother that I didn’t intend to marry every guy I brought home, which led to several puzzled looks from her end finally ending with “Alright then, I need to cook.” The first time I had my heart broken, she said "It hurts but its okay, I understand." instead of telling me, how I was too young to be in love anyway.

I wish to be half the mother she is to me. To be half the friend she is. To be half the kind of cook she is. And with all those halves my children would be full lucky.

So now so many years later when someone says that I am just like my mother, I say “Thank you!”

2015 Reading Challenge

With a quarter of 2015 whoosed away, and exams on my head. I await my precious non-academic reading time.Here is a challenge I'm taking up and putting up here, so that it hurts me physically when I don't do it.

I also have an evolving Reading List of books everyone must read, do have a look. If you are joining this challenge with me, do leave a comment so that we can wallow in self pity together when we don't complete it. Much, love!

PS: List will be updated with the name of the book, so keep up!

1. A Book with more than 500 Pages - A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth
2. A Classic Romance
3. A Book that became a movie - The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri (re-read)
4. A Book Published this year
5. A Book with a number in the title
6. A graphic novel
7. A Book Written by someone under 30
8. A Book with Non-Human Characters
9. A Funny Book
10. A Book by a Female Author - Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert
11. A Mystery or Thriller - ABC Murders by Agatha Christie
12. A Book with one word story title - Gulab by Annie Zaidi
13. A Book set in a Different Country - Love Virtually by Daniel Glattauer
14. A Non-Fiction Book
15. A Popular author's book - The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri
16. A Book from an Author you haven't read yet
17. A Book a friend recommended - Eat, Pray and Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
18. A Pulitzer Prize winning book
19. A Book based on a true story
20. A Book at the bottom of your to-read list - My Family & Other Animals by Gerald Durrell
21. A Book that your mom loves
22. A Book that scares you
23. A Book more than 100 years old
24. A Book you were supposed to read in School but didn't
25. A Book you can finish in a Day - Lullabies by Lang Leav
26. A book based entirely on its cover
27. A Book with antonyms in the title
28. A Book set somewhere you've always wanted to visit - A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
29. A book that came out the year you were born
30. A Book with Bad Reviews - Sita's Curse by Sreemoyee Piu Kundu
31. A trilogy
32. A Book from your childhood
33. A Book with a Love Triangle
34. A Book Set in the Future
35. A Book Set in High School
36. A Book with a Color in the Title
37. A Book that made you Cry
38. A Book with Magic
39. A Book you own but have never read
40. A Book that takes place in your hometown
41. A Book that was originally written in a different language
42. A Book set during Christmas
43. A Book written by an Indian Author
44. A Play
45. A Banned Book
46. A Collection of Poems
47. A Book you started but never finished
48. A memoir - My Brief History by Stephen Hawking
49. A Book of short stories - Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri
50. A Book that you would consider a guilty pleasure - Every Seventh Wave by Daniel Gattaeur

Nikolai Gogol

- Spoilers Ahead. Stop Reading Now!

Ashok was calling Ashima, from the hospital telephone. He was experiencing some pain in his stomach. He was telling her it isn't serious and she needn't worry.

By now I had already begun crying inconsolably. I had been here several times. And I knew what happened next. I was only watching this movie for the 30th time. It was cinematic brilliance is what I would always say. The sheer simplicity with which a beautiful book was converted into a film. Never is a film better than the book but this time it was so close I could never decide. 

The Namesake, tells the story of Ashima and Ashok, an Indian couple struggling to live the American Life and raising children in a country they don't feel they belong to. Ashok names his son Gogol, in memory or drawing inspiration from Nikolai Gogol, a Russian writer because Ashok feels deeply connected to him in so many ways. It was like Gogol had saved his life. A son's absolute remorse and the love only parents have the privilege to feel. A book that touches you where it hurts most. Enacted by perhaps the most talented actors in the industry, Irfan Khan and Tabu. Gogol is played by Kal Penn who needs no introduction. 

Fun Fact about the movie. Kal Penn's family were Indian immigrants and he was born in New Jersey; When he read Namesake he wanted to buy the rights of the film and make it a movie. But Mira Nair beat him to it. As destiny would have it Mira Nair's son who loved Kal Penn in 'Harold and Kumar' told her to consider him as the lead. That is how he came to be cast as Gogol.

Why the mention of this film/book now so many years later? It's like a stale review. But I couldn't help myself. Some books and movies don't leave you and this is one such. I have cried and smiled on my worst and best days with this story and its hard to be selfish and not share. It references to this book "The Collected Tales of Nikolai Gogol", Ashok gifts it to Gogol on his graduation.

Now the thing is that I have been meaning to buy the book by Gogol forever. But I believe in all things magic, and delusions are a part of my personality occasionally. So I'm hoping for the book to find me. It's not easy to buy, believe me I've tried to cheat in several bookstores by asking for it straight off. I want the book to just run into me. By chance or some strange twist of fate. Like running into the love of your life. Crazy? Just buy the Goddamn book!? Perhaps. And while I know I am here waiting for an inanimate object to come looking for me. I'd want to find it, like a treasure, not purchase it like a material possession. I'd like for Gogol to find me when the time is right and I need him the most, while I keep my eyes open like searchlights, looking for the signs.

"We all came out of Gogol's overcoat" - The Namesake

Fears.

I fear, a life that is just about ordinary
That when I'm old and gone
The dash between the years of my life will have no stories to tell

I fear that too much ambition will eventually drown me 
Or worse, I'll fall in irrevocable love with flying like the film I can't stop talking about
And no place will feel like home again.

I fear not the darkness but the lonely nights it brings
That eventually eat you up
And slowly sleep is a secret you tell your body to keep.

I fear that I fall in love in an all consuming way
And I can't really draw the lines between what is platonic and otherwise
I love the rhythm of poetry and its concave curves
But maybe we are better off as friends.

I fear that books will one day lose their comfort
The lines I knew at the back of my hand 
Will turn into patterns and all I will be able to make of them are scribbles

I fear standing at the crossroad of nowhere, terrified if there will be a happy ending
There probably will
But I will fear still.

I fear that by the time I learn what it really is to let go
I'd have too many people and things pass by
And everything I'd ever let go would have claw marks on it.

I fear a world of complete despair 
I fear a life of counting the clock
Time.
The world's oldest trick
And probably the only one that is truly magic

But what if it's time that I don't have 
What if there are just so many days I knew I had?
Would I be brave then?

Thinking Aloud

If I have a machine in a factory and every day I decide to fight it, to question it and to ask it difficult questions every single day pushing it to its limit and thus stalling work for hours. Isn't the machine going to eventually breakdown, isn't it going to be more inefficient than ever before and not function at all. 

Our legal framework is a system. I know what you'll say about justice in India, its delayed and often denied. But if we only paid close attention that its not the framework that is weak. The laws are in place and improvements happen all the time. To ensure a complete and 'ideal' solution to every problem. And anything without a system, a structure is just chaos.

I don't know where the line is really drawn and where outrage is just happening for the sake of outrage. Is beef really that important to so many people? Really? I didn't even think that many people ate it. Is a documentary so important that we must digress from the real issues, the real issue that when will we see justice served for Nirbhaya? What good does a documentary do to her and her family's loss. 

Here is what I think of the documentary:

Would I want to see it? Yes.

Why? Because as an educated adult trying to figure out the world, I'm curious and perhaps so disturbed that how someone can commit something so heinous and have no remorse. To feel nothing. I blame the lack of education. The short falls in his upbringing but it still interests me to know WHY?

Do I support the Ban? No. 

Although to hear him say those things, is disgusting for the people who've been through the traumatizing experience of being raped and to their families. While it exposes a not so shocking mindset, he is only saying what politicians, Ramdev Babas and several other regressive men have said in different forms. But coming from him with absolutely no remorse in his voice brings no good to Nirbhaya or to the legislation. But an impressionable uneducated young mind will watch his smug face without a single trace of remorse and think 'Sahi Hai' and not know any better. I don't want a young girl watching and fearing her life as a woman, assuming assault and rape to be her destiny if she chooses to live, work, and go out when she feels. I don't want her thinking any lesser of herself because some men were not raised right.

But what I do want is men to feel shame. And while I don't generalize. I know that even the best of men have at some point made a crude remark about a woman who doesn't know her "decency" and for that alone I would want the film to be viewed. I want everyone to see that even the most educated lawyers of our country, perpetrators of the so called 'Indian culture' echo the voice of our patriarchal society.

What the film should go to achieve is a fast track court hearing. To use his words against him in the court of law. But law wouldn't allow something like this as evidence. Because that is the beauty of a democracy and its sanctity lies in the fact that even the most heinous criminal is tried by an un-biased judge, and the taxes of the same country that is now against him will pay for his lawyer and justice will be served. 

Here is my candle of hope that there will be a tomorrow, when the law of the land will not let me down. That outrage will not be the reason for action but the intent for justice. 

Point A

There are very few people who like poetry and are not familiar with Sarah Kay. She is a spoken word poet and her poetry is eloquent and brilliant. This is my version of her poem "Point B"

If I should have a daughter
I’ll read to her “Point B”
And tell her that’s not me

But Mama is a worrier and 

Papa may not necessarily be a warrior

So she must fight her own battles
That on a long enough timeline everyone succeeds

She will learn that terrible things happen
But those terrible things, they save you
That salt water is the answer to everything
And the waves will take in anything if you let them
She will always have the key to what her life holds
Its like the clay that she will get to mould
That “Some things are just not meant to be”
Is the biggest lie ever told.

She will know that heartbreaks are painful
And losing someone can leave a hole in your heart that won’t be filed
I’ll tell her that her Mother was in love too with a man,
Who didn’t love her enough
But I got over it and she would too
But what I won’t tell her is that even now when I think of him
I feel the air knocked out of my lungs
and for moments after that they forget the taste of air
With my hand on her head
I’ll probably say it was for the best
But I’ll skip the rest

And Baby I’ll tell her never stop asking, “Why?
That she will not hear me say “Just because I said so”
She will know to be persistent
She will know to not settle for anything
lesser than what she dreamed of
Not all dreams are still breathing once you wake up
But they must not go without a fight
That life is like moonshine and her mother
Has been holding on to some of it each night
For when it gets too dark

She will know that love makes
the world go round
And the world has been going on for too long without enough of it
That the ones holding down her cape while she tries to save them
Are the ones that need her the most

And when she can't help them

When life seems at its darkest
She can cry
Sometimes tears are what you need to see clearly And life is greatest leveler
That just like books, it all ends well

Okay, not all books end well

But that is what the moonshine is for
The stars and the sky 
Can make you believe in the things that are much
bigger than us 
That there really are somethings she can't change
And that's okay

Cause if I should have a daughter 

She will call me "Point A"

Because I'll be her constant.