i can't believe your eyes!

Hiding inside of her words
she can take off
dress
herself up in metaphor
and longing and expose
intellect and past study

She can carve out beauty-
right out of herself
and doll it all up in decorative
lace
looking from afar with pride
a child off to school

It stands on its own
legs and all, yet
always lacks
always misses
the point

It's identity screams
silly
futile.

Gentle existence
like wind in her hair:
slips.

She could stop tomorrow
and nothing would change

She could stop hiding
and change for herself.

Myself.

i think i may do that.