Here’s to the champions of one-night stands
and those who prefer to save themselves for one man,
or no man at all.
Here’s to the hearts white-knuckling the guardrails
and the hearts unafraid to fall.
To the snot-rocket queens
and those pretty in pink.
Here’s to the mascots for honesty
and the keepers of secrets.
To those who try to give the best of themselves away,
and those who choose to keep it.
Here’s to those who prefer the view of the office on Sundays
and those who prefer that of a steeple.
Here’s to the lovers of isolation and books,
and those who are lovers of people.
To the girls whose happy place is under the hood of a car
or sitting alone at a bar.
Here’s to the lonely hearts,
and the hearts who have always beat better alone.
Here’s to the anchors
and the skipping stones;
The places to crash
and places to call home.
Here’s to the dream-chasers
and in heels.
To the embracers of thoughts
and validation of feels.
Here’s to the wings who chose flight;
To the bruised ribs that refused to crack,
and bloody knuckles who chose to fight
because they weren’t afraid to hit back.
Here’s to the Mulans and the Sleeping Beauties.
We’re all caught up in the same war.
We’re all trying to save ourselves
because we all know that we are the ones worth fighting for.
Here’s to the leather and the lace.
Here’s to the next morning stay for pancakes
and the sneak-out-the-window warriors,
disappearing without a trace.
Here’s to the fairytale believers
and those who believe in inevitable heartbreak.
Here’s to those dedicated enough
to be selfless,
and those brave enough
to be selfish.
Here’s to the good hearts
with bad reputations;
To the conservatives
with chapels full of expectations.
Here’s to the kisses
blown from nude lips
stained with red lipstick.
Here’s to the creators of noise,
and those silently hoping.
Here’s to the girls with poise
and the girls who sit with their legs wide open.
Here’s to the dirty hands and dirtier mouths.
To the tongues dipped in vulgar honesty
and the ones made of delicacy,
taking extra precaution with the words they speak.
Here’s to the hearts full of Bible verses
and the stomachs full of gasoline.
We all draw from the same arsenal full
of stories and scars-
all evidence of clumsy hearts
bleeding to the same moon,
with its gravitational pull.
Whether we swim with or against the tide,
we are all part of the same body
whose powers are capable of drowning.
Here’s to the riot girls
and the prom queens.
I am you,
and you are me.
In hearts and flowers
and skulls and flames;
Through the looking glass,
we are one in the same.
All of us
in a world full of imperfect rules.
It’s our turn to change the game.
Along the way,
we may trip, and we may stumble.
Regardless of how they deal
or how they shuffle,
what they don’t understand
is that eventually, their kingdom of cards will crumble.
It’s all in the way we choose to play our hand.