A true lady of mid-twentieth century perfection,
Everything about her is prim and proper:
Her soft skirt, baby blue and fresh from tea,
Her pristine blouse, white lace and tickling the neck,
Hands folded in her lap and angled to heaven.
No one would know.
She isn’t fresh from tea with Mother and Grandmother
She’s fresh from playing fast and loose
With three dead men.
She is perfection for a young lady
And ideal for a murderer
Because you’d never know what lies beneath what you see.

This is the part where I close my eyes,
And pretend that I do not exist,
But I still hear doubts in my head,
I can feel my stomach start to twist.

I'm waiting, wishing, listening close,
For an answer, nobody is there,
Instead the silence screams away,
Reassuring me the world doesn't care.

I am only an insignificant speck,
Nothing more than blood and skin,
It's useless to waste anymore time,
Hoping for something better to begin.

Everybody is able to make the choice,
To live their life right or wrong,
The consequences that follow,
Either break us apart or make us strong.

There's so many paths to choose,
Roads winding in every direction,
Everyone else is well on their way,
I'm stuck back at the intersection.

I'm surrounded by high expectations,
I can't ever get away,
There's few places I can go and hide,
Where they can't catch up for a day.

I aim to be the person you need, but
I also want to stay true to myself,
The greater the height you try to set me,
The further I'll fall from your shelf.

You keep pushing for perfection,
I can't change who I am inside,
I could work my hardest to please you,
But neither of us will be satisfied.

The moment was brief
I don't even know
If it registered
In your mind
But I fell for you
And I'll never get up
Because I don't want to
I want to stay here
Face to the ground
Hearing the heartbeat
Of the Earth
As you breathe
Deeply, slowly
I want to sense you
Above me
As you always have been
I want the colors
Of the sky at sunset
To paint a portrait
Of you
But the portrait
Would be an insult
To who you really are
A shallow rendition
Of how you really feel
And all you can do
I want to shower you
With diamonds and pearls
Chocolates and kisses
But I’m not the one for you
You’ll end up with
The quarterback
And I’ll end up with
Myself
Once again

Where are you my love?
Are you waiting for me to find you,
To grasp your hand when I know you’re the one,
Standing in front of your face that’s as bright as the sun?

Why do this my love?
Why can’t you reveal yourself,
Instead of being the one to be shunned?
You may leave forever but I’ll still run.

Why so perfect my love?
Why hold your heart low beneath you,
For no one to see, no one to hug?
Stop checking yourself just to be done.

What do you yearn for?
Do you roam the earth for someone to love or,
Wait patiently for your lover to open your door?
He will never be there if you’re looking at floors.

What colors are your eyes?
Blue, green, brown or something so fine?
They say so much about you and tell me why.
Guess I’ll never see them if I gaze at the sky.

I struggle with my selfishness,
The seriousness of my disease,
My grasp on things is premature,
My thoughts still do whatever they please.

Inside my mind it begins to pour,
And although I scurry from the rain,
My worry leaves no place to hide,
Nothing to crouch behind to keep me sane.

It seems I always return to this place,
Where all the moments I earn I set free,
I wait for burned bridges to re-emerge,
And somehow undo the damage in me.

I still reside within my own skin,
Feeling emotion against my will,
Outside I spill a few tentative words,
But the ocean of guilt is hard to ****.

I'm pestered by the knowledge of my flaws,
Endlessly listed in my reflection,
They appear when I pause and catch myself,
In the mirror without perfection.

They dig their way beneath my nails,
And splinter into my self-esteem,
Everyday loathing is the price I pay,
To keep at bay these fraying seams.

perfection, once certain

I detest it
To the moon and back
For the crystal ball does not lie
I shrink from it
The mirage shrinks as well
My spine tingles
Perfect polished porcelain
No indentations
No scratches
The sun reflects off its glass surface
It glows
I want to shatter it
Nothing can escape its expecting eye
It's almost invisible
My eyes are blind
To what it does to the others
To me
I shrink from it
For this miasma morphs my mirage
To a mesmeric monstrosity
It glows
And I detest it