When I walk into a room

Full of people

Laughing

Talking

Flirting

I laugh too.

I forget the parts of me that I don’t want people to see.

I dance.

And I am happy.

Until

I am forced to hold someone’s hand

                  to dance with a boy who never asked for me.

And as I look into his blue, blue eyes

Like a dark, unforgiving ocean,

I find myself searching for words.

And the first words that come to my lips are

I’m sorry.

 

I’m sorry that I’m not pretty enough for you.

I’m sorry that I’m not that girl

in the middle of the dance floor

with soft hair

and perfect eyes

and a waist that you could fit your hands around.

 

I’m sorry that you got stuck with me.

 

The first words I want to say are

I’m sorry.

When really I should be saying

You’re lucky.

You’re lucky to have your hand on this hip

Because this hip

Is the same hip that hits the ground

Diving for a soccer ball.

These hands

Are the same hands

That bat it away,

Winning us the game.

You are lucky to be looking into these eyes

Because these eyes have gazed at the stars

And realized

That there is nothing so beautiful in this universe

As the universe.

You are lucky to be hearing this voice

Because this voice speaks poetry.

And I know

That my size is distracting.

I know

That my teeth are not as white as they ought to be.

I know

That my hands

Get cold

When I’m nervous.

 

Believe me, I know.

 

I have cried in front of a mirror

Because of how much I know.

But I am not here

To apologize to you

For your skewed sense of beauty.

I am not here

To apologize

For what society sees.

I am not here

To apologize

For your impossible dreams

Based on magazine covers

And TV show hosts

And sappy love poems.

 

I am here to dance with you.

 

So you are lucky.