comfortable

willingly
and knowingly
i've watched my vertebrae disintegrate
inch by inch
into soft and pliable flesh

my malleability is grotesque

i look at myself in the mirror
bare faced
clean
and happy

and turn around
to step into the costume
that makes me "pretty"

and so sinks my heart
like a cannon in my chest

in anger, i look back at her

tonight i yelled
at the painted face
at the insecurity
at the pliable creature in my view
because she is better
and more precious
than he knows

approval is such a bitter chase

i need
i need
i need
to be wanted

not words
no, those mean nothing
not money
i hate it's power

i need him to say
and do

to make a way
to find a way
to care enough
to not

alas, the bottle
with her curves
and tempting glow
has won his wandering heart

and there i go again
trying to compete
with the poison

shame on me.

my frame, tall and pale
shaking from the blow
reduced to an inequitable race

most days
we don't feel like the gold that we are
and we let loneliness dig so deep
trading dignity
for a glance
or a word
or something
something that makes us feel loved.

And I imagine the great creator
perched on the wind
watching in grief
as his beautiful visions
with emerald eyes
and seraphic bones
are wilting and effete

made lowly
by blind men