ReMolt

skin

It wasn’t the stranger in her skin

but the skin she didn’t own;

the mirror lied to her for years

in countenance unknown.

But when she learned her truest self

was trapped beneath that skin,

she stretched her soul and slipped it off,

re-molted genuine.

Let It Fall

bare

Lay them down, let them slip

From bone-white anxious fingertips –

These pseudo-hues, these not-true-yous,

The ways in which you daily choose

To dress your soul in binary,

Faux your skin in finery;

When fiction’s tarnish falls away,

When forgery is let decay,

Your backbone rises plumb-line strong,

Authentic in its truest song.

So let it fall, remove that shell –

You’re beautiful au naturel.

 

 

 

Get Real

litpeony.jpg

She wants to get real.

Her thirst is a mirror,

reflecting a parched soul

to blind eyes; the more she

confesses, the more she

recognizes her hollowness.

Only Light can fill her now –

energy in rainbow-rays,

illumination to reveal

depravity. And seeing,

she knows that

she has been a dark

and empty thing,

a plastic flower

with no hope of fragrance.

So now,

at last,

she wants to get real.