you're so vain you probably thought this poem was about you

This poem isn't going to make any sense to you
because this poem is for her
and I'm not even sure if this qualifies as a poem
but I am sure I needed to write it.

I know you.
You hate swearing because one time you tried
it and it didn't give you any relief or make you
feel less angry and you are jealous
of people who can sleep at night knowing
there is so much filth inside them.
I can see that look in your eyes and
 it reminds me of skid marks on a busy rode.
And I know sleeping sounds good and
being in a coma sounds a lot better
and I get that.
I get that you will never use calculus in your life
and I get that a boy has never loved you back
and that your forehead is freakin huge,
but there are somethings that you don't get.
You don't get that there are other people who love you and,
you don't understand that there is no such thing
as being content with your life
and that even Jesus wept sometimes.
You've never understood flowers
and how they open up every spring and
the truth is you probably never will but
that's okay because I get it.
I know you hate how you look while you drive but
you don't get that none of that matters because
you look so free when you are singing at the top of your lungs
and I know your voice isn't good
but who said it had to be?
You are "that woman"
people write poems about
that woman who thinks too much
and talks too much and cries too much
and even sometimes her mere existence is too much
and that's why you are scared.
Because you are beautiful like art,
but all the boys you know want somebody
who is beautiful like flowers.
Someone who is soft and light
and doesn't think too much and
cry too much and talk too much
but especially,
someone who doesn't exist too much


This poem isn't going to make any sense to you
because this poem is for me.


~sasha fierce~