For a Moment

Just for a moment I am going
to wonder what it would take
for you to finally whisper that
I was beautiful.

Should I drown myself, hair
flowing under the water around
my paler than usual face?

Slice up my wrists and thighs
in a bath tub, taint the clear
water with my sinful love of
pain?

I will tape up my mouth and
lock away all my words behind
my lips if that's what it takes.

Crawling on hands and knees to
reach out for the pant-leg of you,
my self-proclaimed salvation.

My strength of self-hate will
only take my desires so far in
fantasy before I act them out.

But just for a moment, if you
were to call me beautiful, I am
sure that I would truly be the
happiest I've been in a long
while.

For, you see, I've never been
called beautiful in my life.