Poetry, Written Words

Expectations

Guys want a girl who
drinks beer
watches the match
sings along to the right songs
dresses up
marks their face with the right products
makes love the right way
not too sweet
not too rough

Girls want a guy who
is sensitive
yet manly
wants kids
but not until she wants them
has the right amount of product in their hair
and wears nice clothes
but never better than her
makes love the right way
how she wants it
when she wants it

All these expectations
are impossible

We want a robot
installed for our exact needs
our deepest longings

We keep searching for someone
but when we only look for flaws
that’s all we will find

No one will ever be truly perfect
until you allow yourself
to perceive them as perfect

It’s not about their job
their hair
their eyes
their background
their smile
their ex

It’s about them
their personality
their laughter
their dreams
their presence

If only we stopped expecting everything
then maybe we could be happy
with someone who’s good enough for us
someone who will become perfect for us

We just need to give them a chance

Poetry, Written Words

Brothers

A brother is one you share with
one you care for
A love so deep nothing can replace it

My love for you is different yet the same
For one I feel gratitude
Gratitude for always being there for me
Holding me when I’m down
Catching my tears

One call and you’re there

For others, it’s when they tell me about their hobby
When they share their deepest secrets
And show me they find comfort in me
That they believe in me

I want the best for them but nothing will ever be enough

Brothers are there to tease you
Trouble you
And push you

That’s how you grow strong
How you get tough 

Brothers are there to show you love
To show you compassion
And show you selflessness

You will do anything for them
You will drop everything for them
For you know they would do the same for you

For me, it’s a four timed love
A love so strong no other person can break it

For me, it’s a strong, helpful life-enjoyer
An ambitious, hardworking fighter
A sensitive, passionate team player
A loyal, compassionate friend.

For me, it’s a tie no one can loosen

I can’t wait to see you become a father
Become a groom
Become a man
Become you 

And you know I will be there with you
Every step of the way
Every song of the album
Every day of the year

Poetry, Written Words

Thinking Red

There’s something beautiful about the fall
When the leaves drop in time with the temperature
and the mind wanders to warmer times
It fills you up

That old song is back reminding you of back when
When you were here in my arms
I smile at the memory
But leave it behind

The fog flies before my eyes
But I see everything clearly

In this town I grew up in
I understand why we’re here
Why the world keeps spinning

The leaves fall
Die
And come back to live
Our love feel apart,
died
and now we’re ready for a new love to come to live

That’s how life works
How the seasons change our hearts and souls

Fall is a beautiful time
A time to reflect and evolve
A time to find your new place in this world

Long talks with coffee cups
That’s what it’s really about

Thinking Red helped me see life in pink

Karoline's Blog, Written Words

I need a scratch map of the countries I’ve kissed

I have a things for foreigners. It’s a thing. It’s a fact. Let’s not dwell on it and start calling each other names. I know I’m not the only one. I just really don’t see what’s so special or fun about being with someone from your own country. I mean, they look like you, grew up like yo and know the same cultural references and traditions as you.

Nah, not for me. I like a little action. A bit excitement. Someone who can surprise me and say stuff like: “No we don’t use Christmas trees for Christmas haha. We use this plant.” See, that would be fun! I could learn something new about the world and broaden my horizon.

I absolutely love talking about Denmark. Everybody who’s met me while I’m abroad would know this. And deep down I think people like to hear about our silly popstars and weird food fetishes. Maybe they don’t, but I love telling them about it anyway. And I get so fascinated to hear someone else talk with such passion about their home country. So why shouldn’t I find someone to tell me about it.

So what is it about these foreigners lips that draw me closer to them each and every time. Is it the accent? The language? The looks? Who knows.

If we’re being really honest, it might just be because they’re far away and I know it won’t last for long. That way I can’t get my heart broken… Just kidding. It will happen either way.  It might even be worse this way.
Side note: A positive thing is that you’ll never bump into him while drunk or on your way home from the gym, because he’s so far away. And isn’t that a great thing!

I know I’ll end up with someone from another country. It’s going to be difficult and stupid but I have a feeling that’s how it’ll be. And I can’t do anything about it.

 

 

 

Poetry, Written Words

I have given up on love

I have given up on love
on believing there will be someone there
at all those lonely night
I find myself wondering
if maybe I was fooling myself
this whole time

Maybe I should have quit long ago
in the forrest they wait
but not for me
for the next best thing
the perfect thing ready to do
whatever they’re told

I’m not like that
I don’t work that way
maybe that’s why I’ve given up
because every time I try
it all just seems to get thrown
straight into my face
all over again

I sit in silence and hear the world
outside my window
stare into nothing and
sing a little song
tomorrow is a new day
some people are not for you
we have to face it
but one day
one special day
you will face the one that is

 

Karoline's Blog, Written Words

1. august

Kender du det når man er blevet så såret at man gør alt for ikke at falde igen.

Man tør ikke smile sødt, klæde sig flot eller sige frække ting, for hvad hvis det kunne misforstås. Hvad hvis der var en, der så igennem det hele og ville have dig på trods af det. En der var ligeglad, om du ikke turde ryste med røven eller blinke frækt. En der forstod, hvorfor du gemte dig på dit værelse, mens de andre var ude og lege. Hvorfor det at starte virker umuligt, for så dukker det hele op igen. Alle minderne du har gravet ned, kommer frem og minder dig om, hvor dum du var. Ulykkelig og naiv. Intet kan skjule det mere. Vi gemmer os for at glemme, men husker mere end nogensinde.

Hvis vi ikke tør gå ud, går det aldrig væk. Hvis vi ikke åbner døren, er vi lukket inde for evigt. Jeg vil ud igen, men mangler en hånd. Jeg mangler en stemme, der siger det er okay. Siger han vil gribe mig, for han er ikke som dig. Og så må jeg blot stole på det. Lukke øjnene og lade verden ramme mig endnu en gang. Blink og tæl til tre.

 

Translation: 

Do you know that feeling, when you’re been hurt so much, that you’d do anything to prevent yourself from falling.

When you’re scared to give a sweet smile, dress nicely or say sassy things, for what if it could be misunderstood. What if there was someone, who say through everything and wanted you despite of it. Someone who didn’t care if you were scared to shake your ass or blink at strangers. Someone who understood why you were hiding in your room, while the rest were out playing. Why, starting, seems impossible, for then it will all come back to you. All the memories you’ve hidden, will come back and remind you, how stupid you were. Miserable and naive. Nothing can hide it anymore. We’re hiding to forget, but end up remembering it more than ever.

If we don’t dare to step outside, it will never go away. If we don’t open the door, we’re shut inside forever. I want to go out, but need a hand. I need a voice telling me it’s okay. Tells me he will catch me, for he is not like you. And I must simply trust him blindly. Close my eyes and let the world hit me once again. Blink and count to three.