there are too many disgusting things
about human beings, i know,
and i am
still young.

crushed lips and bruised hips
have faltered me;
i once thought soft flesh was beautiful
until your skin grew rough
around
the edges.

so maybe now
i am just used to you.
like how i always reach
to the right of the sink,
except
there is nothing
poetic about
the orientation of your bathroom.

after all, we spend so much time in there;
me kneeling over porcelain judgement,
you sitting
and watching
me, too familiar now to hold back my hair.

too familiar now,
you know me so well,
i can no longer be
that ethereality
that floats in your dreams
and keeps you happy.

there is something disturbing
about being around someone who
can see all your human flaws:
skin too fair and unbrushed hair,
lying to say it's better this way.

it's better this way, they like to convince you
that it's true or maybe they just want to prompt
acceptance but
why should i settle for
less than perfection
of something i've dreamt of
my entire life?

this isn't poetic.
this isn't beautiful.
stop kidding yourself,
you are
only human.