5 new dresses into trying to get you back
With the necessary accessories
the price tag for the first attempt alone
was well over 100 bucks
It was a bold statement
requiring red lipstick, going
against my current natural trend
while at least 3 people
used the word beautiful
It didn’t matter
You never made it to that party
their words fell hollow
I wondered if you’d view
drunken facebook photos
think beautiful too
or just:
she looks kinda faded
Something like 5 outfits
added to my bulging suitcase
have been texting you to say:
this is me trying to show you
I have changed
without benefit of red carpet
glamour squad
Harry Winston on loan
I keep trying to pull off
Oscar Night Stellar
just to get you next to me
long enough to see
that I am sorry.
That I fucked up,
done wrong,
quit too soon,
mistook your sincerity for naiveté,
your attention for neediness,
your excitement for weakness
and your Adoration
Well it invaded my Lonely
Asked me dream where I’d only been feigning sleep
Kept saying I have something to show you
to my seen it all before
Promised a kind of devotion that made me
Damned uncomfortable
I didn’t know
I would grow to love you so much
from afar or just almost close enough
the outfits empty soldiers
limbless cannot touch you
they stand to speak for me
yet utter nothing
I do not use my mouth
my hands are paper cranes that cannot unfurl
I spend too much time wondering
If I have the right
to Disturb you. Again.
Spend gazes out bus windows
on how you could ever trust me
and why you remained friend
Want you back but so sure
there is another she better
hasn’t hurt you once already
doesn’t have my learning curve
or overflowing baggage.
Maybe I am not best for you
new outfits roll off you as
I imagine you wonder
why I don’t donate that shallow money
where it’s needed so deeply
If I were you, I’d untag me in all your photos.
So I keep not speaking.
They call me brave
but I have rendered myself fearful
Just keep planning outfit
after outfit
Hoping you’ll look through
all that armour
See me standing before you naked
Thinking
Love.
Love.
Love.
c. e. amato
4.11
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