"unequal" poems
“kitty”. sixteen,5′ 11″,white,prostitute.
ducking always the touch of must and shall,
whose slippery body is Death’s littlest pal,
skilled in quick softness. Unspontaneous. cute,
the signal perfume of whose unrepute
focusses in the sweet slow animal
bottomless eyes importantly banal,
Kitty. a ***** Sixteen
you corking brute
amused from time to time by clever drolls
fearsomely who do keep their sunday flower.
The babybreasted broad “kitty” twice eight
—beer nothing,the lady’ll have a whiskey-sour—
whose least amazing smile is the most great
common divisor of unequal souls.
29.3k
From afar she was admired
Clouds shaped of fancy and lust
Rainstorm of affection
Pouring down upon her
Appetite for desire consumed
Alas, meant to be, it was not
Love unequal, partial, distorted
The pendulum swings between
Elation and anxiety, passion and pain
Tale told many times before
Boy encounters girl, boy falls for girl
Love, while one-sided is still love
But fleeting, unsustainable
The great white buffalo
Unrequited love
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
Metallic-, ionic-, covalent bonds.
Persisting still proving, able to break.
The forces assured, the pressures endured,
the attraction unequal, results left uncured.
Surely there exits an unbreakable bond,
created by a wand from a paranormal pond.
A connection not so rare, sharing DNA in our hair.
A bond assuring trust, selflessness and care.
Not even death, can break a bond that strong
and this may seem unfair, science points to wrong
but this is no illusion, my doubts are less than low
I do not have to prove, what I already know.
Its far beyond a feeling, description left unknown.
This bond is right beside me, never am I alone.
I do not need an idol, I do not need a god.
Impossible to forge a key, it's not that type of lock.
My brother is my hero, my brother is my rock.
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.
The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.
It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).
And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.
And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 7:05 AM UTC
Black Like me, I clearly see, I am no longer who I used to be
I am a white man died dark, in this adventure I created a spark.
People are angry. People are mad. This makes me disappointed, and sad
I did this for research, to find the truth. For our future, for our youth.
I’m a white man living the life of the oppressed, the segregated, and distressed.
A white man living the life of the black, and the truth is equality it did lack
It was shocking to find people cruel, who I once knew to be kind
They hated me because the color of my skin, their argument against my race was just as thin.
They made assumptions, followed the stereo type, dear God America, where are my equal rights?
I traveled to the most racist state, where I experienced as a black man, a fiery hate.
I found the idea that the South created: We are unequal, unloved, and passionately hated.
They stared us down with hate we could feel. It was tangible, it was real.
The kind hearted were few and far, I learned much while hitching rides in cars
I could not believe what they share so openly, they spoke of their ****** immorality.
At this point I was feeling defeated, I was sick of how we are treated
I could not take it any longer, but I know I have become stronger.
I will fight against segregation, so we can truly become an equal nation
I hope for the sake of these great people that one day we will all be equal.
No one knows what it’s like to be black like me. I hope one day we’ll find true liberty!
May 18, 2012
May 18, 2012 at 4:06 PM UTC
My life is better for having met you.
A friend
Who feels nothing like a friend at all.
My life is better for having known you.
A champion
Who champions my pursuit of actualization.
My life is better for having loved you.
An equal
Who holds an unequal piece of my heart.
A man
who leaves me better
than he found me.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 1:14 PM UTC
Pleasure, oh pleasure sitting in silence
Among the lime trees
The silence of delight
A perfect pardon
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
No hurry, no hurry
To go anywhere
While strangers offer smiles
Such perfect smiles
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Magic a specialisation
A practical specialisation
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
People of all kinds
Come streaming by
Pilot people
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
People passing with such power
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
All power is violence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Pleasure, oh pleasure
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
No power is needed here
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Only truth and justice
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
No grievous ache remains a mystery
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
That purple mass made clear
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
An aroma here
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
An exuding stupefying aroma
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
That startles the sparrows
Identical sparrows
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Other silence is unequal
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A quivering tenor of silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Gilded silence that flashes
Hazily across the vision
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Frenzied silence, irresistible silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Silence split into fragments
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Fragments that remain intact
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Silence that vanishes from sight
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A severed silence
That remains infused
Golden and deceptive
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Like split up bandits
On the run
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Who race up two
Different boulevards
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A day return silence
Always nervous and irritable
Sitting her in silence
Among the lime trees
A softening handsome
Lilac colored silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Regal in its resonance
Of romance
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A silence of scarlet kerchiefs
Wears a tail coat
Has black raven hair
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Trying to catch spiders
Rats, little devils and dogs
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Day breaks
Inexorably in silence
Over the poet
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
The unstoppable
Silence of silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Such silence once started
Is unstoppable
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Such as the strange silence
One finds in snow
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Silence in a deserted shout
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Oh such silent noise
Such silent noise
Silent noise, silent
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
the newbie failure complex(ity)
the poems come torrentially,
hurricane, waterfall & tornado are working adjectives
worthy of the task, yet unequal to the unlimited army
of the written dead of unread poems and poets
that occupy the nether of blog, podcast, and poetry sites,
orphan stars in the un-salvaged junkyard galaxy of verbiage
a faceless wight, once alive, now permanently dead,
we shuffle march, chanting each our own newbie poem,
onward soldiers to ignominy and glory so fleeting,
we are forgot before we are remembered
*this is life in poetry,
or better yet,
the worst of it, (sigh)
this is the poetry of lives*
all for nought,
nought for all,
at least we pass our prison time
in the company of fellow strugglers*
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
A nation that bleeds
Unwilling to confront the past
The last thing we need
Is celebration and blasts
The unequal treatment
Race gender and class
Shines so clearly
With Donald Trump laughs
In this time reflection
Will shine a better path
Reconstruction Redistribution
Instead of indifference and death
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
tattoo ourselves in electric ink memorializing calendars,
diaries of observantional digits, black on white, no gray,
birthdays, anniversaries, dates of passing, starting lines,
occasional achievements, departure dates, even glaring failures,
sundial mundane records of diurnal habitude…even
defining self by, bye, byte marks upon flesh, upon our calendar
*not my first trip-tracking, he ruefully rues, wry smiling,
many voyages of indeterminate measuring length,
leaving litter of arrays of hopeful estimations & destinations,
each unequal, any or all possibilities, each day notated,
without critique or commentary, the numbers are the
gaols (jails) of goals, target, indeterminate determination,
terrific, horrific, introspections, inverse images resolve, resolute*
a year ago, +/- a few days,, new travelogue commenced,
notated but not annotated, just numerical truths,
(sans comments for the divine nature of numbers don’t lie)
and today my calculator app informs, that I am now
19.4 % lesser, but that clarifies less than expected
naturally this provokes a natty,
spirited, self-inquiry, lessened,
lessor, for better or for worse?
have the physical alterations
accompanying this reduction
mean exactly what,
if, it should be, a greater lesser?
here is the hard part.
your have always been a mirror~poet,
laughing, bemoaning the unvarnished, unshaven
AM sightings of a human perpetual dissatisfied,
the external never denying the interior “less~than,”
a J Peterman catalogue of weathered ****** expressions,
counter-parted by multiple Venn diagram intersections,
of experiential labeled bits & pieces of emotional empirical
less than good, not even close to perfect, so now that I am
*gaunt, spare, lean, grayed, narrower, again ruefully rue,
the even more visible truth reflection eye~hidden:*
I,
am the sum of the weight of my history, my deeds,
my disbeliefs, murderous deeds, weak choices
and that hasn’t changed nary an ounce, no matter
many times examined, indeed I am forever a lesser man,
there, internal infernal
too…
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 2:12 PM UTC
All I can see
is a wasteland of
stone, glass, metal,
and wooden rubble
in an open air prison
where children are living.
Six thousand bombs,
stirring up
thick clouds of grey dust,
obscuring the horrors
people are enduring.
The attackers are
barely even
warning people
to move on.
The exits are blocked.
The power and water is off.
The suffering doesn’t stop,
and these civilians
are unable to leave.
How are you unable to see
the hell spring of grief
that is burning human beings,
the furnace that still cooks
even when no one bothers to look
because all of the crooks
were just waiting
for the perfect excuse
to make the news
with a justified genocide.
Mass ****** and more oppression
with the weapons
America supplied,
and guess what,
another child just died,
more parents got radicalized,
and if they survive
will you be surprised
if hate is the new demoncont.
that wears their tired red eyes.
The rich guys lied and decided
that unequal retaliation
is perfectly justified,
so we are on a road
to the extinction of
human decency
as the world murders
our collective humanity.
Crack, boom,
the sound of thunder blooms
orange heated chaos,
breaking the foundation
an entire building.
A whole family line
gets an early burial,
as what’s left of my heart
gets carried inside,
popped in a box
to be buried alive,
because their beat
was the same as mine.
Nothing I write
will change the minds
of those unwilling to
listen and see people who
are close to total annihilation,
as deserving of love,
and compassion,
but even so
I am still asking.
Help, please, help!?!
Instead we get beheadings,
mass shootings,
****** assault,
retaliation,
and the expectation
of more tragedy to come.
I can easily condemn
violent actions taken,
but I need to understand
the origins of this rocky foundation,
and potential solutions,
because I can’t stand the
horrors I am facing
without eventually breaking.
Dec 2, 2023
Dec 2, 2023 at 8:46 AM UTC
an old familiar,
an adversary of the first degree,
when we wrestle,
me and this god
disguised as an angel disguised as man,
the door to where we tangle,
clicks shut with a perceptible oval sounding,
a trumpet announcing commencement of the festivities,
that we are
Occupado
no stray observers permitted in,
the room entrances locked,
someone's two hands upon each temple,
(cannot be mine, for)
inside we combat literally,
"mano-a-mano"
hand to hand,
word to word,
gradually, continuously,
up close and personally,
one on
One
over the course of a lifetime,
each battle named,
famously borrowed and thus recorded,
Agincourt, Waterloo, Gettysburg, Leningrad, Ðiên Biên Phú,
for the record keeping purposes of our unforgiving ******
historian
the rules of engagement somewhat flexible,
biting, choking, eye gouging,
kicking when down, not just legal,
encouraged, no holds barred,
when we wrestle,
the dirtier the
better
take turns declaring a victor,
for that matters little, truly,
just a record keeping notation,
the battle and its aftermath,
the waves of pain inflicted,
the casualty count engorged,
is the greatest glory,
dans une manière de
parler
though sent away the children,
our earthly goods,
designating them purportedly,
non-combatants observers,
yet 'no rules' meant
they could be accidentally drawn in,
non-combatant status does not prevent them
from being freely captured or
killed
the conflict ongoing,
no one ever calls for a truce,
for both unequal adversaries know,
no quarter will ere be given,
and though the tide shifts,
each individual battle produces as always,
a winner and a
loser
noisy affairs,
long after the battle,
the slain yet scream,
perhaps I am confused,
perhaps it is the day's survivors,
announcing that sadly,
they are still
alive
it must be the latter,
for here I am writing and recording,
and though alone,
I hear an ever growing louder,
gouging sine wave scream piercing,
daring my soul to leave my wracked
body
for though mortal wounded,
I am therefore
both dead and alive,
but which more so,
none can surely
say
this conflict remains
unconcluded
the pain in my hip, now
everywhere,
my Jacob, now, Israel,
marker
so visible even if itself,
unseen
3:59am
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 4:03 AM UTC
how terribly dull
what pitiful fools
who can't think for themselves
and abide all the rules
how wonderfully clever
and unequal in measure
are those brave few who dissever
themselves, from platitudinous notions, and live free, forever.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
Does it hurt you like it hurts me?
Who knew words could burn so deep.
Alone in the night, emotions on the edge.
Do you feel it too? The emptiness where you belong, at my side.
I fear the answer; for I know it well enough.
For you it isn't me, it's her. The one you see, the one you touch.
But I'd do anything to see you smile. It's the reason I say I'm still around.
They ask me who I'm trying to convince, because they see my true desire.
I want you to want me. Except not the way you do.
Because the me that you see isn't who I am.
I'm a lost soul in this crazy world. Denying the desires, just to stay strong.
Because I feel that it's wrong. But only because I know it's unequal.
I say it's okay; biggest lie I could speak.
But admitting my true emotions is weak in my eyes.
Because vulnerability isn't strength; only an open wound awaiting the salt.
She knows it too, or maybe she doesn't.
Either way nothing will change.
So I'll push through it and keep displaying a straight face.
As long as she's happy, my emotions are as they stand. Untouched and unspoken.
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 5:34 PM UTC
Eagle of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
When far away upon a barbarous strand,
In fight unequal, by an obscure hand,
Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings!
Poor boy! thou shalt not flaunt thy cloak of red,
Or ride in state through Paris in the van
Of thy returning legions, but instead
Thy mother France, free and republican,
Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place
The better laurels of a soldier’s crown,
That not dishonoured should thy soul go down
To tell the mighty Sire of thy race
That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty,
And found it sweeter than his honied bees,
And that the giant wave Democracy
Breaks on the shores where Kings lay couched at ease.
2.8k
Feeling...
Ceiling...
Crush another can,
Something wonderful!
Wasted now,
Broken house...
Yeah...
Defeat,
Concrete...
Take another hit,
And it's all complete,
Just **** me,
Oh, **** me...
Yeah...
Can't you see?
It's my creed,
Blood red seas,
So permanently!
And this is me!
Oh, this is me...
Yeah...
Sunlight,
So bright,
I think about a day,
I've never had my rights!
I'm Equal,
And Unequal...
Yeah...
Shadow ball!
Oh, shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me sleep,
Oh, let me sleep,
Yeah...
Oh, Hashish,
And *****
I can't imagine when
I've ever felt so numb!
Just guide me,
And hide me...
Yeah...
It's something new,
And something *******
A form of happiness
I never thought I'd brew,
But still, I knew,
Oh, I knew...
Yeah...
Shadow ball,
Oh, shadow ball,
Tell me why I never
Had faith at all!
Just let me feel,
And leave me be...
Yeah...
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
I am the
SAME
as you
I work in your community
I live in your world
I contribute
(too much)
to Capitalism
by frequenting your local stores
and buying
WAY
more items than
I need
I vote for your President
your Congress
your Governor,
I participate in politics because
I care
about the way
our world
functions.
And yet I'm not equal
I'm not "the same."
As if any of us even know what being
"the same"
means anymore
When I dated men you
ALL
applauded me, praised me
Even when I dated total
********
people said,
"Well you're just too good for him.
But you're such a great person for
being able to see past his
'rough' exterior"
I saw past
SO MANY
'rough exteriors'
And I was miserable
And I forced myself to
PRETEND
to be happy.
And loved
And love-ING.
But then
SHE
walked into my life.
SHE
had been there for awhile,
but I shoved the feelings to the side
because they're
NOT RIGHT
NOT
acceptable
NOT
real
NOT
important
Be with a man they say.
And I followed their rules.
Which lead to alcoholism
drugs
depression
suicide after suicide after suicide,
never
accomplished.
Which reinforced the fact that
my life would be full of
Failure.
And then came the kiss
(when my lips met her perfect lips)
that opened my eyes,
and changed my life.
Now, I may be
Unequal
Rejected
Frowned upon
BUT
There is no frown upon
my face.
For my world is
Complete
Authetic
Rewarding
Real
And I wouldn't change that
to cultivate the appearance of
Equal.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
Wish someone had told me ,
That I would've known
Life is so beautiful
And i wouldn't be left alone
All those scars will fade away
All the pain would be gone
I wish someone had told me
Wish I had known
at times when I thought I was weak
Well those moments made me strong
Wish ,Someone had told that 'freak'
A moment you lived is a moment gone
that self-harm was stupid
Even though it felt so real
Concentrating on just the pain
Never figuring out what we really feel
That the wounds will heal
For a purpose I was born
And it's not the weight of the world I bear
Just my own
And no one was to be blamed
For the emotional wreck I turned out to be
You shouldn't forget the world for a name
And be so blind that others can't see
All those nights spent crying and cutting
It all looks so point-less
What the **** was I mad about ?
I haven't even seen the world yet
That I loved too soon
And learned too late
True love is pure
sometimes one has to wait
That losing someone is a part of life
You have to take that in stride
It'll all make sense after a while
To have patience and not act vile
That the haters will hate without a name
To be yourself there's no shame
Hate and love is part of the game
Few words cause no harm , one shouldn't feel stained
You will find what you seek
If you don't , you didn't try hard enough
That life can be cruel at times , unequal and rough
But you 'gotta take things head-on
You have to be that strong
In Admitting your defeat once in a while
There's nothing wrong
That life can be like weather
At times sunshine , sometimes rain
And even if life knocks you down
It shows you the way to rise again
Wish someone had told me ,
That I would've known
Life is so beautiful
And i wouldn't be left alone
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
“a decade old is forever new, for
truth is never old.”
Pradip Chattopadhyay
this man, ten years of inspiration, ten years of friendship, here,
on HP,
provides nourishment to my lagging body as it nears eight decades
of Earthly occupation, for
his eyes and heart and his mastery
of the songs of the tongue,
have wrenched me straight,
we, attentive to the tears
he makes me weep, for his insights penetrate my insides,
even now as one, unexpectedly, reflects midst
yet another first poem of the day, my eyelids blink away
the wet,
my brain revels at his pithy, how he corrals,
encapsulates the daily smoke and fire of life,
it truest value,
in words that make one wonder,
what admixture of mineral, chemical, history,
adventures, atmosphere, parentage, spices,
love gives him these super powers to gentle
seize the moment, size our souls, causing my
cheeks to wide smile, while mine eyes sheds
monsoon droplets of feelings so deep, that
my repaired heart oxygenates my very soul,
making me high, my mind reels that a day will
come inevitable
that one of us will be unable to sit by side,
swapping tales of granddaughters, and
other earth meaningful events, to walk his
streets or he, mine, finishing each other’s
couplets.
to think that I awoke with no intention of
composing this paean, but his brief pearl
knocks my head side to side,
and with the
tears, come words,
that age, or an entire
decade,
cannot restrain,
retrained to modesty,
for regarding my friend
Pradip,
my boundaries expand and cannot be
contained, even by my delimited vocabulary,
the paucity of my skill, the insufficiency of
the adjectives acquired over a lifetime, but
do my unequal-to-the-task best efforts,
but without choice, but compulsed, compelled,
one more time, to say,
to my new day,
perhaps my last,
I love this poet~man.
this is one of my truths.
<>
Wed Jan 17 8:31am
City of New York
<>
read the poetry of
https://hellopoetry.com/pradip-chattopadhyay/
<>
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 12:27 PM UTC
He who, sublime, in epic numbers roll’d,
And he who struck the softer lyre of Love,
By Death’s unequal hand alike controul’d,
Fit comrades in Elysian regions move!
2.1k
We have a single nightstand
It is a good, solid nightstand
It has a lamp that gives just enough light
And the surface holds just enough things
We talk about having another nightstand
You know, so maybe we can expand
He agrees that, yes, maybe it'd be good to have another nightstand
We part thinking having a second nightstand is the plan
It'd be brighter
And there would be space to unpack more things
A single nightstand is good
But not enough for two people, it is unequal in the service it brings
I wait to hear his thoughts for the second nightstand
And I keep waiting, starting to question his intent;
But no, he knows. And besides, he said he wanted the second nightstand
And there was no reason to lie about how he felt
I think of reminding him about the second nightstand
You know, the one that would give us just enough room to expand
But turns out that wasn't actually his plan
And all he wanted was the one night stand.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
i'm in love with a boy
but i change my pronouns to say that
i love her
because of the ones who cannot do so.
because of the lovers who have to hide.
because of the injustice people have done to people.
we are all equal in birth, but live in an unequal society.
i am simply another girl who loves a boy.
no questions asked.
no awkward glances, no stiff hands to shake.
no glares, no whispers.
because i'm privileged enough
to be on the side of love that someone deemed
acceptable.
and because i don't agree with having to pick and choose who you get to love
based on their possession of particular parts.
you love someone for their energy, their personality.
the way they hold you in the night.
the trust you share, the bonds you make.
you love them because you are you and they are they.
she loves her.
he loves him.
she loves him.
he loves her.
or her. or him.
the pronouns
should not
seem odd
to us.
but our society majorly consists of
gritted teeth and
disapproving eyes.
and because of this,
because i love someone
of the opposite gender,
and because i do not
suffer from any hate,
i will quietly fight
the cookie-cutter
for you
with pronouns
and poems.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
I dressed up for a wedding that day.
We drove far to get there.
The wedding wasn't for me
But I felt like I was getting married
Because when you are free
I feel free.
They say preparing for a wedding is stressful
But you never had a crack in your smile.
I was born here
So by default I was already apart of the family
Kind of.
More like the sixth removed cousin that everyone forgot.
But I'm still a citizen
I get to eat some good toast at the table sometimes.
Yours was a bit burnt but you still ate it as if it was French toast.
You made me think I had pancakes and vanilla froyo everyday.
But when I truly feasted it was at your reception.
You said I do to America
Along with other brides and grooms.
And in that moment I felt full with love that tasted sweeter than that invisible vanilla froyo I never had.
I think we all were in love that day.
We were equally unequal with everyone in that room.
Maybe the one you married didn't actually love you in that moment
But I heard these arranged marriages are like boiling water
So perhaps it will grow over time.
I'm not sure but how could anyone not love you?
Congratulations on your citizenship mom
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
She doesn’t like perfection.
Says it tastes like McDonald’s iced tea-
Sickly sweet and artificial.
That it looks like an over-starched shirt
worn by someone who hopes a professional appearance
will make up for their obvious lack
of preparation.
She doesn’t like going outside on cloudless days.
Apparently it’s like being caged
In a massive bubble.
She hates completely matched outfits,
because there are more important things
to waste time on.
She wears rain boots at the beach,
and flip flops in the rain.
She makes her sandwiches with the ends of the loaf
and makes sure to have an unequal ratio
of peanut butter to jelly.
She walks barefoot to dances,
and only wears makeup
when she’s not going out.
When I asked her why,
Why she didn’t like perfection,
She laughed upwards,
at the perfectly cloudless sky.
“Perfect,”
she said,
“has been done
too many times before.”
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 11:03 AM UTC