It can’t be that
I’m unlovable.

I have seen
the breath catch
in a man’s throat
at the sight of me.

I can recognize sorrow
in the eyes of a woman
who wants to save me,
but knows she can’t.

I can’t have
made up
all of those
tender moments.

A handful
of those aims
must have
been true.

There have to be
better pursuits
in which to
waste your time
than pretending
that I’m lovable.

I do not have
a long list to
pull from and
I know how much
time has passed but

I remember
his fear for me
and her lips
behind my ear,
half-kiss /

It can’t be that
I’m unlovable.
Can’t be.

I was walking to work today and as I turned the corner and a blast of arctic air hit me I lost track of the guy across the street who I think was eyeing me. I look forward to the day I can wear a dress and high heels on this walk. Not that I want that to be the thing that makes him cross the street, of course. But I’m a proponent of working with what you’ve got…


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