Bulging eyes like those of a mute man’s persuasion,
an idiomatic world wreaking destruction
with its occupants not any worse or well off than the land they stand upon,
Who told me you’re the one?
I never put on the shield of makeup without
first assessing the importance,
it’s all required,
the heart is still at large.
yet still there as a slight,
its pain it will seemingly never repair.
And there is the sharp spike,
a prick in my heart
my eyes they take in all
that swimmingly the pain receptors cannot.
A gelatinous feeling now overwhelms my flesh,
the unformed nature jiggles and sighs,
the athleticism is gone from those
once fit, toned calves and thighs,
my muscles ache almost as much as my heart,
of the present they quietly speak.
A butterfly comes to visit the tip of my nose
and suddenly in a flash
I’m reminded to exist in the present,
to create my own formulation of self-acceptance and hope,
and nothing less or more in between,
nothing else withstanding.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by David Englund from Pixabay
Image by Larisa Koshkina from Pixabay
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