When I walk into a room
Full of people
I laugh too.
I forget the parts of me that I don’t want people to see.
And I am happy.
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 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
When really I should be saying
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.
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
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.
That my teeth are not as white as they ought to be.
That my hands
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
For what society sees.
I am not here
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.