She wears mascara to hide her flaws
While her flaws find comfort in her empty soul
They fester inside and cut deep
She faces internal insecurity
Hating who she is supposed to be
Her inner beauty ugly as her attitude
Lacking the ability to show gratitude
Angry because it has never been appreciated
It's only been abused by men who left her feeling devestated
Heart broken and alone she found beauty in her mascara as it hid her ****** errors
At least it covered her deepest fears
Wiped her heaviest tears
Her mascara became a mask full of errors

Only true love would get her to take it off...

She was sewn into my thoughts

      Weaved delicately in my heart

She was slightly threaded,
                  but that made her unique to me.

(1)

                    An Open Door....
          
.....invites you, to move your feet...if you agree
you'd metamorphose from an old self, to a new one,
an open door brings in light...it's a portal, for sun,
air, wind, even fire......presences......emotions,
so they may slide in and out, easily...

in many ways, YOU become the door,
either you allow, or you refuse entrance, to
some knowledge, an opportunity, a flow of art,
an energy...or people...or deep hidden feelings,
could be a love that knocks...when time is right,
it flows beyond control, there're no barriers, no
hurdles...only wide spaces and clear pathways...
heart and mind are willing...no more holding back,
.......never mind, if there'd be half-open,
.........or half-closed moments...
::::::::::::::::
time...gives way for what is meant to be,
..........energies conspire
...molecules grow together into one mass...
...ideas meet, merge into one whole thought
or theory....allowing a glow to flow, and rule,
::::::::::::disregarding:::::::::::::::
the creaking and squeaking of the door jamb,
the broken ****...the loosely ******* hinges...
:::even the lowly moss, stubbornly clinging
to the edges of the tiled floor of the veranda,
the vine-y, bushy passion flowers growing wild
on the trellis, they both look perfect...to one
inspired, to one in love, nothing could be amiss,
....all become negligible...dispensable...
.....you show willingness.....to cope with
..........i m p e r f e c t i o n s.......


                         (2)

                        If I...

........were moss, i'd silently
fill the surface of my chosen ****** panel,
my concrete wall...my loved one, in hues
of green...coating its rough-surfaced gray
with tiny growths, so cool to the touch

i'd shield his sturdy, cold and moist body,
my tiny green leaves would be his slipcover...
inseparable, we shall be....i'd be grateful
for, he gives me a home, my habitat.....

.......i'd be the door to his wall...

.....when his existence is threatened
......i'd face all....go down with him
......break into pieces with him
......he and i...stony concrete and moss...
.....would recreate...start all over again,
......he...the wall toughened by seasons
.....and i....the door to his edifice..



Sally

Copyright September 3,, 2017
rrab

Will I ever outgrow this constant state of failure. This so called Karma, or "bad luck" that seems to haunt every path I tread. Like a shadow, it's presence is constantly there, just not always visible. Will I ever be seen as perfect? What defines perfection, what makes one perfect, how do you obtain this title, and how do you keep it. How can I become anything besides myself.

Upon your body
were the littlest
of imperfections
that caused you
to miss the
beauty
and the art
they had created

Scars
Discoloration
Lack of pigment

Combined
they have made
perfection itself

The Feeling that just can't let you go..
The Feeling like there are no one but you.
The Feeling that being with you, around you, somehow, just perfect.
The Feeling that our imperfections was what made us perfect..