they tell me my hair needs to be waist-length and
that I need to feminine with a man's strength.
that my skin needs to be crystal clear
no matter the season.
and that I must always keep my composer no matter the reason.
that I must wear heels that hurt my feet
to beat every other woman that must be beat.
that being a woman is all competition, and you must get first place.
or die alone and never feel the grace.
the grace of getting married
or grace of being called beautiful
or having an amazing family.
they tell us to have these things we must be "PRETTY"

big brown eyes
full lips
rich skin tone
gorgeous white smile
intoxicating cologne
why do you do this to me?
you make yourself so desirable,
but yet I cant have you.
when you look at me your eyes don't sparkle the way mine do, even when I see a picture of you.
just like my grandmother you to sing to me:
"you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
you make me happy, when skies are gray.
you'll never know thee, how much I love you.
please don't take my sunshine away"
please release me of the shackles of your embrace.
your personality is a fountain of gold and silver.
you light up my day better than the sun does....Wow.
why don't you love me?

These dark thoughts
will destroy me-
ice too thin,
beneath shattered-glass steps.
Desperate schemes conspire
to employ me;
paramedics
fathom the depths

if I starve myself my bones will show
if I cut my thighs no one will know
theyll check your wrist for cuts and scars
but none will mend the broken heart.
ill pop the pills and die real slow.
quietly, so no one will know.

A group of friends,
A gathering,
Overlapped
And away,
Persists
Where all know all
With,
"You think you know me?"
In the all too honest background.

An answer to the above –
Our assumed empathy exists,
When truthfully
It truthfully eludes -
"You think I know you?"

"I"
Or rather the
"We" in the "here"
And "now" -
A lesser form,
And not our truest,
Hides the "real" and deep within.

Each has a pain,
Relatively at least
And perhaps our only concrete notion
Of who the "other" is.
A non-biological truth
Founded upon
A shared organic ancestry
Where
The skeletons in the closet
Translate as -
Lacks of ambition,
Ambiguous futures (at best),
Swept away addictions
And tears in the night,
Torture.

We shed our daily frown,
For a fake smile,
A facsimile
And play for the pains we do not share.
It’s a place
Where the hidden words,
The bad words,
The blasphemous words
Slip -
"Help me!"
And just as quickly
Retract -
"Never mind."

We hide it deep
And hide it well,
Because it's when it's
Shared
That we become what we try to
Avoid -
Attached
And in fear of losing
Each other.

Thus remains –
The ******* of perception.
As we hold to this
State of confused,
Or concussive,
Happiness.
And only later will we all cry,
As we've all gone home
And alone.