It just rained.
The sky is pale blue and
the wind is surely pleasing.
I might just think that the weather is perfectly made for me.
I see some tables and chairs,
some drinks and snacks,
some variety of people
I only see during this time of the day
and only during this kind of weather.
It's 6 PM and
it's almost as dark
as the deepest of the night.
The sky now is indigo blue
and the moon is already peaking.
And god, what I'd do to smile like that.
I see drinks, I am holding a cup of rootbeer
while my friends hold a cup of red horse.
We talk about life, and how scary it is to live;
we talk about ending it, and the many ways we could consider trying;
we talk about enduring it, and how strong we are to have ourselves survive 'til today;
and we talk about staying, just because we're still here.
Though we're barely breathing,
we are here,
and just like the moon tonight,
with the cup of rootbeer in my hand
and with the cup of red horse they have,
we are smiling.
It's almost 8 PM and
the wind is still as pleasing.
It's touching my skin
it gives me a different feeling.
I see hands holding a grip to its last cup of beer;
I see eyes looking down, sleepy;
I see eyebags which I guess I can say as deep as the night;
I see crooked teeth;
I see imperfection.
Though we are as imperfect,
we are smiling,
we're on our way home
with car lights reflecting on our faces.
We wave goodbye to the bottle of beer for two and my rootbeer.
We made it through the night.
That's the thing about me....
All the flaws you believe you have are what I'll love about you,
Between the insecurities,
Lack of confidence,
And being blind to how amazing you truly can be....
I'd still love you even when you can't believe that someone would ever love you...for you.
Imperfections are beauty,
And beauty was always more than skin deep.
Even so... you were always perfect to me.
Thirty-two cents is all you need
put everything you have into it
and you’ll get there.
Yes, but what do you miss
from the whole cloth
from which those few cents
I see the cloth
I’m poking through it
cutting from it
holding it in my hands.
Did you feel and see the fabric’s weave
the imperfections and texture
making it unique, interesting
and beautiful in its landscape?
I got what I needed
from that poor piece of cloth
to put in the bank
to buy the factory.
The future stretches before you
in your race to the finish line
don’t let that ever-changing line
shrink the wealth of the present.
“The Sense of Fabric,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier
I could try to paint perfect verses about you
Fold your limbs and pose you like an angel's muse
But thats impossible because you're defying all the 'rules'
A clumsy knight in shining armor, a charming fool
Pinky promise me!
It'll happen, wait and see
You'll be smiling
I'll be laughing
in circles dancing
I want that one day
but till then I'm content to wait
One day I won't get upset
I won't feel regret
I'll never remember
Anything that's been said
I'll be able to focus
Life will be endless
Possibilities without fear
Or needing forgiveness
Love will be overflowing
I won't think about mistakes
I won't dwell on imperfection
I won't give in when temptation
Rears it's ugly head
Nothing will hurt me
I'll feel only love instead
You are not a diamond
for you are not hard
and you are not sharp
and you are not bright.
You are not gold
for you are not dense
and you are not soft
and you are not shiny.
You are not silver
for you are not light
and you are not white
and you are not heavy.
You are not sapphire
for you are not blue
and you are not calm
and you are not deep.
You are not ruby
for you are not red
and you are not attractive
and you are not visible.
You are not iron
for you are not strong
and you are not flexible
and you are not smooth.
You are just a stone
full of imperfections
You are just a rock
But you are a meteorite
something I want to explore
and the only proof I have
that someway, somehow
I am not alone
drifting in the nothingness.
Please let me touch your hair
These fingers unworthy of such magnificence
My unholy hands with blemishes unknown
Hair so perfect, it should turn my fingers pure,
So that I would feel its texture, understand its nature
Curly, Straight, Silky, soft, coarse….. hair worth a thousand stories,
Histories unknown laid beneath these holy strands
Hair that defines your identity, sets you apart from sinners,
Let me tap into that story, let me touch and feel its Allure
Please Let me love your hair
Strands and strands buried deep into your skin
Makes me wonder ‘what lies beneath, what holds it in place’?
Irrevocable stares won’t do it justice
Like fresh daisies, sweet smelling hair
My love would cherish its scent
Such beauty and wealth on your head
No wonder you brush and flip so coy.
Please let me have your hair,
Peace of mind that comes with knowing that I can own such beauty,
Us unfortunate, bald with no identity
Deficient beings, the gods have been partial
Taking the genes of perfection from us undeserving
Maybe your hair will cleanse me from all my insecurities
It should redefine my imperfect existence
If only I could make it last a little longer
I would show you what it means to love and cherish your hair forever.