My Kitchen Sink

Dirty Fingers and Messed up Things

You were not my favorite book

You were his

I thought I could find something beautiful in you

I thought he'd find something beautiful in me

But I understand now the torn pages

And the mismatched poetry

Were not meant to be beautiful

They were meant to be his

And he collects messed up things

Like ripped books

And bad poetry

And now I'm starting to rethink my desire to sit upon the same shelf

I don't want to be beautiful in that way

I am not a painting by Picasso

I do not need my parts rearranged

I just thought I needed you to make me
whole

I was never meant to be a da Vinci

But I already am

And this story's no good

And neither are we

But I'm climbed so far to reach these shelves

And I wish to rest here a while

But this spot is only permanent

I will never put my self back together after your unclean hands have touched me

So beware of dirty fingers

You will never again feel clean