“he says, you’re beautiful…”
he says,
“you’re beautiful”
I smile, letting it reach my eyes
but I don’t believe him
not for a minute
I think, his eyes are blind
from lust
from a euphoric fog
of satiety
from anything that prevents
him seeing what my eyes do…
no svelte lines here,
no smooth and unmarred visage
no
only renaissance flesh
and a face with lines
where laughter lives
he can’t be right
he’s high
or the wine
has clouded his judgement
he repeats, “you’re beautiful”
and I wonder if my mirror, mirror
on the wall
has been lying to me
all along
Life Through Blue Eyes 
Ah. Beautiful.
Thank you so much.
Reblogged this on Of Glass & Paper and commented:
Where laughter lives…
Some of us worship Renaissance flesh x
Thank you 🙂