I love your curves* play over and over
in my small schoolgirl brain.
everyone says i'm stupid to listen
to the things you tell me
because they are simply
"what I want to hear"

but these folks, these "friends",
they only read the lyrics
as opposed to listening to the song

they see the words but hear no beat

they read on the lines, not between them

they see graffiti on a concrete wall, when those spray paint scribbles are truly art

and sometimes it takes tilting your head to the left,
standing on one foot,
and closing your right eye
to see the beauty of what you say
and do

when you see the art of the spray paint that is my soul,
when you hear the sing-song of the way he calls me beautiful,
when the words are truly believed to be true, and not hollow spikes of sound

you understand