Sometimes I like listening to my heartbeat
wondering how long it would take to look in the mirror till I can see myself as beautiful
how many poems I would need to write to cover my indecencies and backside
Maybe lovely people are the ones full of light
or maybe the lonely ones
I'm not quite sure.
Because I find ripped quilts and sandy toes quite lovely too
and people don't usually have the attributes of porcelain teacups or foamy waves
I think my giggle is a note off for the lovely ones
It's a little squeaky, but I like how it sounds.
Sitting in a church pew, choking back laughter
oh, isn't religion funny?
aren't people droll?
and doesn't this ocean breeze make you want to run your hand through your hair and sing
I'll tell you a secret/I've got them sugar water blues/where everything's real sweet/But I can't help but think about you?
I'll tell you another secret
Sometimes I want to stand out in this wind naked
with a notebook pressed against my stomach
and a pen in my hand
It has something to do with feeling innocent,
knowing nothing but this wind, my goosebumps and flesh
The sensation of shivers with the association of emotion
Sometimes, I think I care too much about my clothes
maybe that's how they decide if I am one of those people,
one of those lovely people
or maybe it's the curvature of my cheeks and hips
maybe the closer one's curves are to a circle
the closer one is to complete
It's not like loveliness has a definition or perfection has a form
Just sometimes, I want to know if I am one of those
the lovely people
without knowing what that means
I said I love the broken people
the slightly askew noses and shoes
misplaced clocks and wind blown hair
mismatched patterns, word snippets, ink spills
And I think waves are the ocean's lovely ones
and the clouds are the sky's pride
But I've never seen anyone who looks like the sky
or cries like the sea
Just sometimes I wonder if I looked long enough in the mirror
could I figure it out?
Could I figure out if I am one of those people,
the lovely ones?
But then again, sometimes I just stare out at this beach
listening to my heart beat
and I don't know if I look like one of those people
but I feel like one of them
a lovely, broken, sand sculpted being that can always touch the first wave of the sea
But I'm not sure if I'm one of those people
the lovely ones