the words spoken from the daughter
unaccustomed to poking, prodding
"you would be so pretty if--" "your
face seems thinner when--" do you
create for me my insecurities? so i
can be one of your group? a cookie
a day keeps the space between my
thighs away, but counted calories will
chase happiness down a swirling,
enslaving drain..
i would my crosses bear to
love the unlovely, to tell lies about
myself so we can live on the same plane--
perhaps my chainmaille isn't
too thick that i cannot find fault.. is it
much? where is my achilles heel..
i fear it lies in utter arrogance.
and then your sweet, sweet words
feeding my soul...
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