Dear White Women,
I’ve always loved the way you talk, how you’re soft-spoken and articulate with words. A journey of literary eloquence begins when your lips dance in harmony with the melodies of your voice. I find it adorable how you stop everything in the middle of a sentence to make those crazy hand signals. I’m afraid you might hit me by accident, but the tenderness of your touch outweighs your bittersweet clumsiness.
The pain soon fades when I look into the hypnotic array of colours in your eyes. As the afternoon sunrays embrace your graceful silhouette, the rainbow of your naturally flowing hair comes to life. It is then that I look upon you, enfolded in an aura of radiance. Your delicate features allure me when you smile a little more.
It saddens me, when you’re insecure in your own skin. You etch patterns upon yourself to hide a blank canvas of infinite dreams. I only wish you knew how beautiful you are so you wouldn’t darken your glow. You’re like a winter wonderland; a snowy scene in a fairytale come true, and a place to never depart.
There’s a saying in Chinese that if you don’t finish your bowl, you’ll end up having a wife with freckles. I’m not much a fan of rice anyway so everything works for the best. I want to encourage you not to find a mask, for every one of them is like a star to wish upon. They lead to something more than the wonders of the universe, in you.
It’s the way you still portray your elegance in times of stress and sorrow. Sometimes you’re too sensitive and easily hurt. Others might abuse you for your gentleness and honesty, but I’ll never take advantage of your sweet, forgiving nature. You’re much too silly and delightful for tears to find your cheeks. I’d torture myself with chick flicks just to see your smiling face.
And in bloom, you resemble that of pink heart candies, while your perfect whiteness represents the purity of your heart. You might wonder if I’m cheap for wanting to marry you as tradition commands your family to pay for our wedding day, but it’s not the reason why.
Darling, it’s your heart that makes me want you mine, to be my Princess Bride. Our kingdom will comprise of the cutest CaucAsian babies.
It might be controversial to love you when you’re at war with the world around. They’ll objectify and exploit you, tormenting your precious spirit. They’ll hunt you down and make you a slave, boasting their prized possession. But I promise to be your Knight in Shining Armour, and protect you from the spiders and monsters.
Dear White Women, there will always be a place in my heart for you as there is with my angels from the Orient. My love will remain with you forever. Though your ridiculous pet names make me melt away some more, all you’ll ever need to call me is…