my self clearer

the window is cold. i'm finally dark,
and feeling like i look
lined with your ideas about
girls who wear make-up
and their poetry.
girls who share drinks and
girls who don't show respect for
their bodies. thinking of losing
pillar after pillar
of your faith being not who i should
be, or need to be, because of right
and because of how much it hurts
otherwise. cradling that fear i wonder
who is giving it such a safe home?
i don't need to know
who thinks i'm smart if i feel pretty,
or what they think it means
that i don't understand.
i'm not after your hands, any of you.
and i want to be here as i am. against
a cold window, seeing my self
clearer than you can.