As if something has gripped me tight
Shaking me by the shoulders
Telling me to prove you wrong.
Urging me to whisper and shout
And crush you as I convince you-
I am not perfect
Or talented or skilled or beautiful.
I am ordinary
It kills me, but I am.
Must I tell you?
Perhaps this is the reason:
There is no time!
Soon, I will be out in the cold,
Your pedestal will offer no comfort
As it crumbles with an ancient groan.
To simply be the little that I am
Will change the way you love me.
Hand in hand,
My head buried in your long, curly hair,
Headed towards a distant twinkling light
You see fireworks;
I, a sighing, tiredly glowing match.
When I have failed,
Will you still love me?
My fault, all mine, I know
I exaggerate and embellish
The creation is ethereal,
And a hollow, desperate mirage.
I have forgotten how to put aside the pen-
And all else I use to shape it-
Allow me to destroy it,
This lonely apparition
-the eyes; familiar, tortured-
Rip it apart inch by inch and all at once,
Send it up in toxic flames
Soot and salty tears and long-gone pathetic mind.
Let me shed its brilliant deceiving cloak.
Now, amid sounds of crackling fire,
Amid signs of an end,
I know you will not-
You cannot forgive and look past the disaster,
Cradle the weeping form
Of a soon-forgotten, ambitious girl.
When all is done,
How can you shoulder her ordinary burden,
When you are as wonderful as she strived to be?
Please love me, after the deluge