must you love me till rocking chairs
delighting in my idiosyncrasies
find my wrinkles endearing
be blinded to my scars

why can’t you be like the boy
who puts hearts on my mocha
forgets he should look me in the eye
who’d cream himself for just one fuck

must you wash white my dirty laundry
birth premature in my bed your dreams
melt your fears into my shoulder
while you fasten my wings

why not like the man who forces a glance
makes me work my magic later
naked in my bed must beg him to stay
wanting more, then leaves me anyway

why must you love me so completely
that I must in my imperfection, go