I try to imagine you with a few more wrinkles.
More pucker lines around your mouth
and fatter
Liver spots indicative of aging,
a few of your teeth gone brown or missing,
and maybe some sort of growth upon your nose.
I wish your beauty bad
I imagine,
in your desperation for
a little bit of the attention
you once had,
you would come back for me.
You would leap out from behind a tree
like on our first date.
You would shout boo
and we would laugh
like the way I can’t forget.
I would take you in my arms
and kiss your crinkled lips.
We would walk again on a city street
so that I can watch you digest
the art of the sidewalk,
the music of dive bars,
the difference between two woven fabrics
that look quite the same to me.
And I would
help you back up to your pedestal.
I would stand close to keep you safe.
I would love you.
Forever.
No matter.
I wish you were ugly like me.
Michael L Sutter
Oct 5, 2011
Oct 5, 2011 at 8:51 AM UTC
I try to imagine you with a few more wrinkles.
More pucker lines around your mouth
and fatter
Liver spots indicative of aging,
a few of your teeth gone brown or missing,
and maybe some sort of growth upon your nose.
I wish your beauty bad
I imagine,
in your desperation for
a little bit of the attention
you once had,
you would come back for me.
You would leap out from behind a tree
like on our first date.
You would shout boo
and we would laugh
like the way I can’t forget.
I would take you in my arms
and kiss your crinkled lips.
We would walk again on a city street
so that I can watch you digest
the art of the sidewalk,
the music of dive bars,
the difference between two woven fabrics
that look quite the same to me.
And I would
help you back up to your pedestal.
I would stand close to keep you safe.
I would love you.
Forever.
No matter.
I wish you were ugly like me.
Michael L Sutter
