Hey! Woman! Get up and run!
Run away from this disease, that you and your mother and her mother have shared; the earnest willpower to always be strong. Remember that you too are first human, before spirit, and that your flowing tears are not an abomination. So cry if you have to, and when you’re done, dust yourself and keep moving.
Run! Keep running, till you find the kind of love that kneads you into fluffy home made pastry, delicious and filling; more than enough for the world; more than enough for him; more than enough for yourself.
You are a waterfall, pouring with coverlets of pain and love and passion. Your ceaseless outbursts are the loudest tongues of a million other women like yourself. Bruised and sometimes, even broken.
So run until you find the type of love that grinds your unspoken desires into something sweeter than hot chocolate, and serves it to you in bed with your favorite night robe clinging to your caramel skin, morning dew and all.
And when your mighty torrents have crashed into the babbling brook that will cradle your fall, you will find that this love you so earnestly seek, resides deep inside of you. Regardless, you must keep moving like the river that you are; now a more calmed, subtle version but never fully giving yourself away.
But in all you do, never stop moving forward. Look back, all that will be left of you, is a pillar of cold crystal salt.