For Yet

 


I’m not bad.
I don’t kick puppies.
I do kill mice.
I do help with homework.
I will read your story.
I’ll say what you want to hear.
I’m bad.

I’m not good.
I don’t volunteer.
I’m not a vegetarian.
I’m selfish.
I won’t brag. But I want to.
I complain.
I won’t let you do for me.
I’m good.
I’m not fat.
I’m not fat fat.
I’m thin fat.
People won’t stop and look.
But people won’t stop to look.
I eat the food.
I eat the hurt.
I eat the pills.
I look in the mirror.
I’m fat.

I’m not smart.
I don’t know art.
I don’t know politics.
I don’t know music.
I try to learn.
I ask for help.
Listen once.
I stop.
It’s too much.
I stop asking.
I’m smart.

I’m not sexy.
Not for me.
Not for him.
Not often.
Not enough.
Not that way.
I want to.
Really want to.
I think about it.
Wish I could think
I’m sexy.
I don’t give up.
I push and need
and take.
It’s hard.
I don’t get it.
I’ll never get it.
I give up.

Please not yet.

I could add yet.
I should add yet.
I want to add yet.

To every time, every sentence,
every raging, awful thought
that rips and ravages
my heart and my will
to get up and say yet again.

I’m not waiting for the right time.
Not for the right one.
I have to make it
count because the
only one counting is me.
Now.
Give the courage.
Maybe not now,
or not just yet.

For me.
For yet.

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