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women say they want a sensitive man but they mock me when i sit at the piano crying for hours holding a lighthearted paper candle and a smile tucked in between my lips

they say they want a hard working man with ***** fingernails but
they claw at me if i turn a sun-browned shoulder against them in bed

they say they would love a cultured man but they cringe when i kiss them with lips tasting of whiskey & cigar smoke or touch them with fingers gentle as soft old paper

they say they dig the cold but they huddle in blankets when i stay up all night dancing naked across the lawn listening to joni mitchell in january

they say they want their own sugar space but turn sour when i linger and wake up dreaming of becoming an astronaut

they say they're comfortable with my past imperfections but it's my fault when i have a nightmare about being strung out on the perfume of another woman

they want a man who can write a song but they struggle when i anchor a poem to their delicate ankles and fill their empty rooms with shamefully broken pencils

they love my beautiful tattoos and piercings but shake me when i spend days wrapped inside a coral shell singing a lullaby

they want the idea of a man they've read about in books but won't tolerate me when i read them the atrocities in the sunday paper under the lampshade of an oak tree

women say they'll take me as i am but get lonely when i wander for a week and come home buried in the scent of a rock and roll bar

they say they make friends easily, like me, but can't stand to come home to talking & laughing cynical & drunk in a house full of strangers

they want a quiet man who loves them like the stars but scream when i learn to fly at the mercy of the weather & can't be captured

they want to live naughty with the thick musk of a man but act bewildered when they're caught soaking wet and weak in the knees

women say they love men with a tolerance but get jealous when i'm dizzy drunk at dawn on cheap tequila and the memory of my mother

they want a man who lives inside a corridor of words but hate me when they realize artful compliments are only cages of pretty lies

they're helpless for a man with grace but hate me when i'm pitiful and clumsy in the dark after blowing out candles and closing windows in the middle of june

they say they'll only fall in love with a lover of music but audibly cough when i hush them as Coltrane makes dazzling sodium fall across my face

they all wish for a man with careful eyes
but mine are blue and empty in the end
& it gets lonely
so i will no longer carry a song for them in my heart
like a trail-weary cowboy
no lust
no memory
no guilt
no cups
no whistles
or jewels in my vulnerable shadow
I don't know
what it is.
I always seem to
be reeled back
to you.
Same old
feelings.
Same old
words.
Same old
hopes
that have been
broken.
old poem.
It's funny how i thought
i was good at hiding my feelings
but then strangers started asking me what was wrong
and why i looked so tired
and thats when i realized
you didn't care enough to notice
or you'll crash
It's okay if I'm not the girl of your dreams
or the one you dance with at the prom
I just want to be the girl you think about 20 years from now
staring at your morning coffee
wishing that you hadn't poured so much milk in
because now it's too creamy
to resemble my dark brown locks of hair
or looking at the ocean
and having it remind you of the endless sea in my periwinkle color eyes
or walking by stores downtown on your way to work
knowing I would've loved that dress
I just want to be that girl
your going to regret what you did.
  Feb 2015 no one in particular
cresun
"is it appropriate to weigh 154 pound?
would it offend anyone if i were to wear high-waisted shorts despite my gigantic thighs?
is it okay if i wore clothes and people can still see my fats rolling out?
would anyone make fun of me?"*

the sad thing is we think about how others see us first
rather than what is best for us
when we buy clothes, we think of how others would see us in it
and not based on whether or not it makes us feel happy
due to the great success glamorization of what its called 'thigh gap',
many begin to think whether not having one is wrong

i just wish something changed the world
and we're all back to one square
where personality comes first
***** the ones with ugly hearts
shower the pretty hearts with more love instead

and maybe, somehow, somewhat,
the world would be a little happier
definitely not a poem. just a thought i have nowhere else to write it down.
i. i will not compete with other people for your attention.
ii. i will not compete with other people for your affection.
iii. i will not compete with other people for your time.
iv. i will not compete with other people for your love.
v. i will not compete for you.
vi. you are not a prize, you are a person. you have agency. and no matter how fast i run, if you want me to win, i will; and if you don’t, i won’t. so, darling, i will not compete. if for you love is a chase, it’s not worth my victory.
i thought
that seeing my own bones
would let me love
the flesh that is my home;

so you’re right
this is not your fault,
but dear god,
how wonderful it would have been
if you had ever told me
to stop,
to stop trying to change
because you loved what was there;
how wonderful it would have been
if you had kissed my skin
and said you loved all of it,
boundlessly,
reverently;

instead
you gave a voice
to what was already in my head
every time you asked -
“will you really eat that?”
you didn't do this but every effect has a cause
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