a e s t h e t i c -
e n h a n c e m e n t

 
<<prev
poetry home
next>>

 

ooh baby

I was eighteen when
you told me you
weren't real.
A youth full of
body anguish
comes up and you're
surprised
when I cringe and
turn away.
You never
taught me about
the power of
my body,
the beauty of
a curve.
I learned,
vicariously,

(adj., 2. Endured or done
by one person substituting
for another)

through stolen glances
in a pubescent locker room
and the girlie
playing cards
I found in dad's closet.
My body should
have betrayed
yours
but it held me
ignorant instead.




home :: web :: graphic :: creative :: cards :: contact