i want to be painted like the Virgin

i want a thousand faces—

all of them wrong

i want untainted blues and whites

i want golds, given

only after death

i want nativity scenes, and assumptions

i want to be loved, but not

in the ways that matter

i want to be built like a cathedral

i want a chest of stained glass

i want a sacred heart, but not

stone like hers

i want to be beautiful in the light—

but i want the light to come from me

i want it within, i want

to shine—

but not in the ways people can see

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