that girl
her tear-stained cheeks
sobs breaking through the silent room
gasps for breath cutting harder each time
she questions him as if he is either a boulder
or simply a stone
that girl
her clumped mascara
trying to perfect each lash with the wand
but to no avail the outside one sticks out
just a little further than the rest
that girl
standing in the mirror
worrying about if it's prudish or if it is
not enough
is that girl
not enough
imperfections show up
like coffee stains on a table
like smudges on a thank you letter
like people on earth
she is beautiful
not perfect
she is me
i am
that girl
YOU ARE READING
untitled poems
Poetrythese are my untitled poems. i write when boredom strikes. they vary by my mood, and they may have different lines & stanzas than the next. they may rhyme. they may not. i don't capitalize my letters.
