Something Nice

Why must I keep
Looking good
As if corpses
Could ever be pretty

And walking in shoes
Getting dirtied
Despite desperately
Scrubbing them clean?

These empty shells
Are mere clothes
Not meant for wear
Beyond living,

Expressing one’s soul
Through such fashion
While flesh underneath
Still corrodes –

That dirtiest trick
Heaven plays
Allowing us hope
We can style,

To steal charm away
After aging,

Feigning confidence
Covering more.

No purchase
Will eternally last.

Even houses break
Over decades.

All beauty remains
Sorely fleeting
Between moments
Spent chasing it down.

A gorgeous face
Surely sags,

But smiles endure
Seeking solace,

Enduring those years
Always trying –

Fallen ill
Yet sharing what’s theirs.

Let me just do
Something nice
Before dying so soon
As expected,

Like charity
Without intention

Other than love
Being rare.

  • J. Pigno

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