I Want To Be

It's as beautiful as any sunset. Or Armageddon. The end meteing out the means. The cuticles of emotion trimmed.

It's beautiful. Like fathers becoming human. As their children grow. Sails shifting to accommodate the changing wind.

No hour to deem these thoughts expired. It's beautiful. How easy it is to separate ourselves from our lives. Petals wrenched from the stem. Deep reds. And gold purples. Try to be. But the color is not enough.

Give me skin. Give me lips swollen with pale sacrifice. Every time I save myself I die. A poet found in the remnant of her light.

It's beautiful. Because ugly isn't real unless.

Charcoal fingers move with. Soft outlines explore. Justification's obscenities. So gracious are. The lions as we run. Thighs thick with the life they will drink from.

So tell me now. What have you drawn. What picture did you make?

Beautiful. It's what I want to be. And I am. I know. If I'm patient.