Hi there! I hope you enjoy this poem that I wrote this evening.
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.
A Teacup Full of Stories 