Pale blue tries to strip away layers
of me,
but I've closed the entry
to my soul.
What you don't know
far outweighs
what you think you do.
I am a daughter:
The eyes you complimented
belong to my European mother,
the smile you won't see
is my Latino father's.
They have poured hours of love
into the mold
that created the person I am.
I am a sister:
Three pairs of eyes
watch my footsteps,
wondering if they should follow
or create their own.
Six hands hold mine,
six arms wrap me in embraces.
I am a girlfriend:
His words comfort me,
his voice is home.
He is loyal and respectful,
my best friend,
and trust me,
I quite prefer his hazel
to your blue.
Your icy eyes
assess me;
I squirm.
You're
sizing me up,
checking me out.
Though you've not laid a finger
upon me,
I feel violated.
based on this weird exercise we did during orientation week at my college
