indigo

a poem

I want to be beautiful,
beautiful like indigo.

I want to see myself,
stained
in the palms
of those who knew me.

I want to be beautiful,
so beautiful that,
no matter what,
you see a brilliant blue
on everything I have touched,
on everything I have loved.

Not to be bleached out
or erased.

I want to be so beautiful
that you let me remain:

a stain,
a blemish,
an imperfection,
an inconvenience
to your lily-white existence.

I want to be beautiful.