Reflections of Beauty


I stand in front of a square of mirror each morning carefully

applying the paint of an urban female warrior.  This is what

I do, this is what I am trained for.  Each brush is skillfully

used to embellish every facial feature to perfection.  Swirling

colors to blend so you cannot tell where one stops and one

begins.  My face a daily canvas to be remade to reflect sexy,

charming, in control.

 

Golden strands of hair fall around my face in soft flowing

waves. All in place designed to be stared at; to be touched.

 

Matching clothing flattering just the right curves of the

body.. coordinated handbag and shoes with not a speck of

dirt on them. Which sunglasses to wear, to tie a pretty bow

on the package?

 

A quick look in the mirror to ensure all is right. Pretty girl

staring back with empty eyes.  I look away for fear of

confronting the truth. 

 

Inside a slow scream starts to form.. pushing it’s way up,

wanting to be set free. Push it back down, it cannot escape,

there is no time for dwelling on what should be.

 

Echos haunt my mind, “you’re such a pretty girl” ; “how can

you be sad, you’re so pretty”; “you have it made, your so

pretty”; “we like being around you, YOU’RE SO…

FUCKING…. PRETTY”

 

SHUT UP!! I cannot talk to you now, I have beauty to throw

around, tell your lines to somebody else. They mean nothing

to me.

 

Look into my lifeless eyes and tell me how pretty I am once

you really see me.  Tell me how pretty I am now that you

know the truth, now that you see reflections of beauty in me.

 

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