Almost Exposed

"Honesty is very sexy."- Valerie Bertinelli

Listen, doll, we've gotta talk.

I tore open your seams to get to know you better,
to see that you weren't just fluffy, freckley, girl

but I pulled ferocious and now I'm inna revelation,
and you're not too happy either since your

I'msaved securities and your thatsalrights and your
satin smiles and your preciousness gazes

are falling out dustcaked and without cohesion,
whitewashed in the bright exposure of your facade frayed.

And I know I'm no Dalai Lama, but I'm no Nosferatu, either.
And where you might be irreparable because you fell in love

and didn't come out until after you had drowned, or whored
yourself in numbers, in power, and not in passion or heart,

or carry on in solidarity with onehitwonder women when you
really mean to and do bat black lashes at all the pretty boys,

coyly, or fuck in obligation to a grand wining and dining,
I can still sew up whatever nicks and notches you've cut

and interrogated. But why would I want to? I tried to teach you
honesty, and though you've turned your head times already,

leaving those holes for you to peek through is the best lesson
still. I've got no coarse words, I'msaved securities,

thatsalrights to hide. No satin smiles, preciousness gazes,
or awkward answers to your questions to hide. Nothing.

You can tell everyothers' ears about how puny you think I am,
but I've been chugging my spinach and sticking to my guns,

and--though you're right that I've reserved my right, a
proclamation

to more tell you I how feel, No. To tell you how I feel more,
to tell you more how I feel, to tell you I feel more for you,

to tell you how more I feel for you--I deserve a bigger better
megaphone, a bigger better you. Stop being a fucking girl.

Start being a fucking woman, doll. I think you look the part.
And clean yourself. Stitch thread and needle

tightly and soon you'll open up.