No title, -------------------------------------------
I don’t think it’s possible
Not for me
No one could love me
I don’t think I could love anyone again
The world is to pretty for me
No person could look past my body
And like what they see
Could I just have one person
To love me
As who I am and what I like
Is that a lot to ask for
Apparently it is
Because it can’t happen
Aw, I bet it can. I am incredibly beautiful, but everybody loves me all the same. For my , er, personality. There y'are.
I think this poem is great because it is passionate self-expression, very directly spoken and clear, and most meaningful to yourself because it is a souvenir of what went on for your heart in particular.
And I think it sux because of the same reasons!
Artists work one layer over another, sometimes for years. This bald statement of fact is like the preliminary research for a poem ... why it is so important to keep every piece you write. You can never get back to this year, except by reading its poems! But your better poems will be more artificial; and if they keep this truth and passion with them, you will love them all your life and be read by many folk.
(I'm an old man. You wouldn't have guessed, eh? Please forgive how I talk.)