When I was a little girl I wanted to be beautiful
Like the princesses I grew up watching
I wanted to look like a sunset
Feel like velvet
Sound like the prose
Spoken by lovers in the throws
Of shedding of every stich of their clothes
And in a nose I would smell like a rose
Every sense sensed of me would
Make sense of me
Since sensing me would be like sipping sweet sensuality
But now that girls want is a woman’s burden
Because I am beautiful
And men flock to me as the ocean flocks to the shore
As Desdemona feel in love with the moor
As the lion is obligated to his roar
But I want more
Than to be beautiful
More than the summers day I can be compared to
More than the ways you can count to
I want to more than just inspire the lyre that plays a song
I want to make the notes it plays
I want to write down everything it sings for days
¬¬to Put into words truth as beauty
And beauty as not always truth
To have the eyes of angels but be ****** for their knowledge
That creating beauty holds less weight than when its clear on your face
But by grace
I will still always want to be viewed as the poet and not the poem