I get the impression
that you like me the way you like dessert:

praising my appearance, presentation,
eyeing a swirl of cream,
licking your lips at the sparkle of glacé

Anticipation.

When you cradle me gently
in the curve of your silver spoon:

your tongue samples my sweet delight,
fleeting flavors hold your senses enraptured
the lingering aftertaste beckons

More.

Your silver spoon scrapes
the bottom of the glass bowl:

melted cream pools languidly,
my last sweet aftertaste slips from your tongue
while you do the dishes.

Let's all have a pity party
I'll share with you all my laments
Then you can croon your condolences
So that the healing can commence

Let's all share some sympathy
And mewl and condescend
Let's all feel better about ourselves
At someone else's expense

We'll be nice
And give advice
Convinced that we are ever so kind
Our victim will be flattered by our attention
By the fact that we took out the time

Let's guilt them into forsaking their self worth
And bend their will to suit our own
We'll reduce them to the status of a begging dog
And then we'll throw them a bone

Individuality is to be abhorred
As are the flaws in their body and face
We have to all get together on this
Someone's got to put them in their place

Then we'll hang a sign around their neck
Which reads "Don't Be Anything Like Me"
This is turning out to be a great success
What a grand ol' Pity Party!

You want her skin to be like the light from stars shining miles away
In a sky you know nothing of
And her eyes to be gray like storm clouds.
You want her heart to be unexplored
So the map is yours to chart, the land yours to claim, and the life yours to take.
You want her harmony.
You want her voice to be the sounds of a hummingbirds wings,
Sweet like wine on a cool April night
And yet tender like the January wind.
You want the moon.
But the moon is not mine to give away.

I am not normal.
It's as simple as that.
I like both girls and boys,
I enjoy classic literature as well as others.

I am simply not normal.
It's as true as the smile that this poem brings to both me and the reader.
I am mismatched,
I wear mo-hawks to school and buzz my hair off.

I am strange.
As easy as ABC.
I take pride in my differences,
And I respect others who are like me as well.

We are all strange.
We are all not normal.


It's as simple as that.