M.P.D.G.

I don’t mind being a manic pixie,

If it means that I’m your dream girl.

I don’t mind being a trope,

A cop-out,

The point that furthers your plot.

As long as I get a few lines.

A few warm smiles in soft light.

A glass of,

Liquid,

Warmth,

In a bar you don’t belong in.

I don’t mind fixing you,

Even if it breaks me.

I’ll be ok when you wander off,

To your sequel without me,

Because for an,

Hour,

And,

Fifty,

Two,

Minutes,

I’ll get to have you.

Hold you.

Breathe you.

Feel you.

Kiss you.

I don’t mind being the side quest,

You wander down,

When your main story line gets dull.

My body is a temple,

And I can be your sanctuary.

Trash me.

Like Jesus did.

Flip the tables of my greed for you.

Rage and rip asunder.

As long as when it’s over,

And your chest is heaving,

With feelings you can’t express,

You survey all that I was,

And know that my purpose,

Was always just,

To,

Make,

You,

Human.

I can be your blanket,

In the cool light of morning.

The cigarette clamped,

Between,

Your,

Teeth.

I can be the fire,

Brought to life on a matchhead.

But only when you strike me,

Just,

So.

I will be the light,

From the fridge,

Spilling across your face,

Like the miracle of electricity,

Could be made liquid.

I will guide your hand,

To all the,

Wrong,

Things.

But fuck,

They,

Feel,

So,

Right.

My quirky clothes,

My sparkly shoes,

My eclectic make up,

All perfectly positioned,

To make you want me.

But not forever,

Just for now.

I am satisfied with the chapter,

An honorable mention.

A set of initials in your acknowledgment.

Just knowing,

That I am indelibly written,

In permanent ink,

On the pages of your life,

Is enough for me.

For now, can never be forever.

But it can be more than I could have,

Ever,

Hoped

For.