and i'm not really sure what i would do
if i ever really had love.
i mean, the love i write about.
i want to be held.
i want to laugh
and not worry about how it sounds,
or how my face looks all bunched up.
isn't that weird?
that someone one day will look at me laughing,
take in the noise
and the way my face scrunches
and think that it is beautiful?
that they will look at me,
my body.
and they won't be disgusted like i am?
someday,
somebody will know my soul.
and they won't run screaming.
YOU ARE READING
permanence
Poetryone day, someone is going to come along and have no problem loving all of me. in the meantime, i have to do it myself. or a book in which i beg to be held.
