Tell me a secret,
I don’t scare easily.
I’ll go first.
Confession: I want you to be ugly
Dark.
Caustic.
Honest.
Remorseless.
A Thief.
The thing I was warned about...ugly.
I want a reason, a vile reason you even look at me.
Selfish. Ugly. Reason...you believe in reason.
It is hard to imagine you are normal
I say that not to mean ordinary (which you have never even sat in a waiting room with)
You are the swirled colors,
the flowers I see in my imagination that has no occupants,
Not because they choose, but I chose it to be that way,
I chose you to be swirled colors and flowers I see.
You are not
Charred.
Jaded.
Broken.
Needy.
Weak.
Dishonest.
Misleading.
I am waiting to see your ugly...
But maybe there isn’t any,
You even apologize when you think you may have let “it” out,
I promise you,
I have never seen you
as anything but
Lovely,
Loveworthy,
Love Me...?
Why would you even look at me then?
How could you assess me the way you do,
And make me believe the tenderness you radiate onto me so thoroughly; permanently.
Gently touching my worn face with your virgin-guitar-calloused fingertips
And giving me the look you do.
Seeing me without motive; without malice
I’m not Little Red and you are not the wolf,
It is hard to let that be,
But I will,
I am,
I have?
I HAVE.
The in-betweens,
The aboves,
The mourning doves,
that remind me of you,
your smell,
as well,
as the pillow I refuse to wash,
your skin to my bed cloth
to my skin to yours...
Lately I am really hoping I am not the Wolf.
History, I love you, but take a vacation,
Please,
Don’t mark this,
Don’t let this be another thing to take,
Let me keep my smile,
Let this one be with me for a while.