Was that All

Was that All

That's all it took to break
as he looked at it on the floor.
Just a drop.
He thought about it in his head,
before letting go-
imagining the impact and the scatter.
He just wondered what if
this precious thing in my hands-
valued-
something I'd be in trouble for before-
what if I just drop it?

But the real thing was much different
in the way that randomness can only provide
and he jumped anyways.
Porcelain darting and farthing away,
twinkling and skidding across the tile.

She jumped too
asking if he was alright-
how it slipped.

It just slipped out.

Well, that's all it needs.
And a smile,
and it's done.

He wonders why he never broke something before
and smiles back.

-Matthew Koutzun

Did You See What They Did to Her Breasts?

Did You See What They Did to Her Breasts?

I'm gonna say it and someone's gonna raise a fuss:
but what's wrong with pretty?
What's wrong with something and it's superficial value?
What's wrong with taking care of yourself?
What's wrong with wanting to be presentable?

Is it because of all the terrible things people have done to attain it?
Why must someone be destroying themselves to be it?
Why must someone have paid for something augmented if they're in the spotlight?

Sure it's all image
and it's all manipulatable
but a talent like any other
it's a skill learned with time.

Pygmalion
and My Fair Lady.
Which is prettier?
And which do you know better?

-Matthew Koutzun

Busy

Busy

I'm busy on the phone again,
it cutting in and out
and me thinking in and out
during its short breaks
about all the things I need to do.

I have that big thing
and that little thing
and not to mention
all the little things
I want to keep doing.

Oh, something is going to give
and if it's not one thing
it'll be something small
from all of them
and everyone is bound to be pissed off then.

But I'm giving more of myself
and time is growing shorter
so why am I here then
writing poems
as if the list were getting smaller.

-Matthew Koutzun