Love is a sand star
slipping through my fingers
A ghost of false hopes as boys grimace and girls gaze
Unrequited feelings that refuse to acknowledge my affections or my ego
Inevitable fantasy weaving itself into my fate
Cotton cashmere and silk already mine

I may never find it because I am always expecting it
I am nothing if not a daydreamer and an idealist,
an artist looking for a muse
But what muse looks for an artist that never paints
Just can’t create the things she was born to
A poser with empty canvases and discount paint stuck to skin

Beloved, are you listening?
I have a confession to make

My lips do not tempt and my hair does not shine, no
I am not the frail porcelain doll I
always wanted to be a perfect manic pixie
Can you accept nails chewed up and shoulders weighed down

by feelings that follow me through life with no cure?
I am a wanting and pitiful everything and nothing kind of girl
Desiring but not desirable
Intense and underwhelming
Interviewing for an entry-level place in your life
with no letter of recommendation
But I hope you can pardon my crimes
Accept the things no one else will
So if you’re willing

Precious One, meet me on the shore
Feel the sand between your fingers
Sit beside me and watch the water, tell me
I am not hard to love.