Painted Flowers: A Poem

Hi there! I hope you enjoy this poem that I wrote this evening.face-562554_1280.jpg

When you first see her, you will

Think that she has flowers on her lips,

You will see only the sparkles in her eyes,

Flecks of gold dust catching a flattering smile,

The roses blooming on her cheeks, perfumed style,

Hair as fine as silk. But,

Don’t you see?

Look closer, for,

The petals on her lips are nought but

The recurrence of her own teeth, pulling until they bleed,

Sending blood blossoming when you can’t see;

And in her eyes is only glitter, scraping its rough edges, and she

Is a prisoner inside her own mind,

Held inside by bars of tears stilled by dams

She builds with her mascara wand, so that

You’ll notice the lashes and not the eyes,

Her rosy cheeks, but not how she’s cried,

Her hair, but not how she feels

Not that deep inside.

And she passes you like a painting, and all you see

Are the flowers on her lips, and what

She so desperately wants

To be.


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