Endings
Why are we obsessed with endings?
Always wanting to know the ending of movies,
to eat the last chip,
to watch a sun
set.
Why aren’t we obsessed with the middles?
The first plot twist,
the possibility of more,
the sun high in the sky?
I think that’s how people
love me.
I must
look better
when I’m walking away,
or crying in the rear view
I must be so beautiful
when I’m sad, for people to keep asking that of me
I might just be too much for some,
my plot twists too
thickening
my noon day light too
bright
my taste a little too
potent
to enjoy for too
long
I have been taught that I am best when I am over,
in retrospect, or theory
Like an impressionist painting, somehow best loved from a
distance
not too close where you can see the brush strokes
I am better living in someone’s head than sleeping in someone’s bed
Like a shot, having to be chased down with something sweeter, prettier, with bigger tits, and a quieter mouth,
even when it’s my drunk you’re looking for
I am best to be worn like a hand bag, to be shown off to the friends and then tossed out with last years season
I am best to be consumed under good conditions,
from a look out
wearing a light jacket,
not stared at during mid day
But don’t worry, I’ll provide the car, the jacket, the bag of popcorn,
as long as I know
you’re watching, I’ll put on whatever kind of show
you
want,
I’ll paint my sky pink and orange
if it means you’ll be staring
But the thing is, I am fading, sunsets only last so long
You’re going to wake up with a hang over, and a headache and realize you had too much of me
I want someone to love me in my intensity, in my messy, in my
harsh brash noon day lighting
I want someone
who basks in me so long they get a sun burn,
and I will bring a cool breeze to calm their aching skin
I want to be wanted in my ugly.
In my “good morning” as well as my “goodnights”
I want a Sunday kind of love
The kind to last through Saturday night
But for now,
I’ll be waiting,
with all of my
allness,
with all my shortcomings,
and the parts that aren’t very pretty up close,
and wait for someone who wants the details,
who wants the brush strokes,
who wants the
messy, and the
harsh, and the
strong.
And I’ll learn more about me,
And accept more of me,
And love,
more of me.
Until then, I’ll continue to shine, and know that all of me
deserves that love
that all of me
deserves that light.
