It′s funny, actually,
pretending
I know what love is.
Going red in the face
when hearing his name?
Love
is...the words I'm so
afraid of?
Or the lust I can't
even
bring myself
to think about?
Why is it so hard
for me to believe?
That my perfect guy
exists,
flesh and all?
It's because I don't
know the face
staring back in
the mirror.
No, not
after
all the edits
society caused.
No, never again,
after all the comments,
will I see this person
the same way.
Where is her prince?
The blue eyes
staring from the mirror,
is he just lying,
ready to pounce,
and pummel my heart?
That girl in the mirror,
are we really
the same person after
all?
YOU ARE READING
Paint Me Flawless
Poetry❝ Call me beautiful Paint me flawless Because I want to be accepted, And desired. ❞ (My lame poetry book)
