Who is this woman who stands before me, in the cool reflection of mirrored glass?
Tell me please, for although she looks vaguely familiar,
I do not recognise her now that the panes show no pain.
Lost is the slouch of her shoulders
Crippled beneath the weight of rejection and
Filled is the hollow sorrow from beneath the blue of her eyes
Vanished are the bones who so desperately craved to show their glory
Through leather skin stretch too thin and
Finally there is supple flesh that is accepted rather than cut back
Please someone, anyone, tell me
Tales of their woman before me,
For of this I am certain,
She looks vaguely familiar and she feels a lot like
Destiny.
