I'm not pretty when i cry.
I'm not sexy when i sweat.
I could sit here and type
page after page
about feelings and emotions
without trouble
because the issue isn't
writing what i mean--
it's having a backspace key to support my
inability
to commit.
The problem with
talking
is that it can't be unsaid;
i lack an engagement to verbal marriage.
I don't know what we're fighting for
if you:
always have the option to change my mind.
I'm not sexy when i sweat.
I could sit here and type
page after page
about feelings and emotions
without trouble
because the issue isn't
writing what i mean--
it's having a backspace key to support my
inability
to commit.
The problem with
talking
is that it can't be unsaid;
i lack an engagement to verbal marriage.
I don't know what we're fighting for
if you:
always have the option to change my mind.
and i:
never have the option to keep it.
I don't wake up looking good.
I'm paranoid of smelling bad.
Most days i like my hair,
and the way my stomach curves in, then out,
and the freckle on my lip.
I don't mind my big eyes,
or my big legs,
or even my wide feet.
I tan well.
I dress my best.
I always powder my nose.
But sometimes
(when it rains long enough,
or i go too long without a text,
or i have enough time to stop and think)
i can hate.
Sometimes:
i'd rather not play the game
than play with the cards i'm dealt.
i'd rather stare at the things i'm not
than count my blessings.
i'd rather not run back to God
because, again, i've been gone too long.
I'm really good at being a guy
but sometimes
(this time)
i'm a mess.
and i spoke too soon.
and i can't take it back.
and i'm sorry.
