I am a difficult person to love,
I, who burst into words for hours
at the sight of something I love
only to fall into a deep quiet
for weeks afterward.
I, made of blue flames and
I, with cinnamon words
and star-speckled wants.
I, who refuse to be
anything else than the loudest
brightest everything-est possible
version of myself.
I, I, I who have betrayed
your wish for a peaceful summer
all year long.
Yes, I am a difficult person to love
because I love myself too much
to care whether or not
you love me.
What do you mean ‘what if’?
He said, ‘What if you woke up and you were blonde and you had blue eyes and you were 5’11 and you weighed 100 pounds and you were beautiful? What would you do?’
And I said, ‘Well, I probably wouldn’t get up ‘cause I’d be too weak to stand.’
And I felt very sorry for him, ‘cause if that’s the only kind if person that you think is beautiful, you must not see very much beauty in the world.
And I think everybody is beautiful. And if you don’t think that I am beautiful, you are missing out. Because I am so beautiful.”