this is her ceremonious self-sacrifice...
makeup hiding man-made imperfections
methodically.
so well-practiced,
just like mother taught her...
this sort of knowledge
seems to be rooted
in ancient civilizations,
fashioned by forfeited love...
slender fingers creep across spots
touched only seconds before
by hands too big and bold to be anything
but masculine.
so reluctant to change,
to step, stop, stumble...
then fall
out of past regrets...
if only you could see your reflection
through my eyes...
you are beautiful...
torn fishnet stockings, strapless bra and all... |
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