Found this in last year's notebook, which I just dug up. Pretty accurate almost a year later.
If only I could make the bath hot enough,
I could open my pores wide enough to expel
all that is not me: a full-body
I would like to open the world for one day,
for all people to be as they are, and not
as the world has made them;
to drink the bleak confusion like a cocktail,
and see the deepest selves,
exposing both the crackling blacks
and the serene brightnesses in our souls -
each one a gem to be coveted.
It smells like shame, this trying
to be what we are not, this need to adapt
to what we know will make others love us.
This is not truth.
I could be beautiful if only I could sweat out
all the common,
burn down to a diamond core,
all light and saturation and rich,
But I am a pebble in a sea of pebbles,
gazing at stars.