not what i was

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my name is (woe)man

and yes, i am flawed...i am weak...i am eve's daughter.

and one of my unspoken names is vanity.

and it is broken vanity

it is a wound

that is bleeding...seeping....keeping me low...

we were talking of beauty....

and i expected praise, not truth...

no, never truth, don't give me that....

give me brightly colored paper lampshades to put over those flourescent bulbs of truth...

i don't want to see my true reflection

give me haze

give me monet.......beauty from a distance....

do not look at me close,

i cannot stand the scrutiny

and he said...

and he said...

that once i was beautiful...breathtaking...

that i was. was. (not is)

then, seeing my crushed expression, adds on the postscript offering:

but you are sexier now....surely, you know that you are not the same in body as you were then,,,,that you will never be that beautiful again...that is age...that is natural....it is not your fault...you are still sexy, even with additional curves....

and i am shattered....

but...cannot say it...

it would make me seem foolish if i admitted how much that just hurt.

that i would be silly to imagine he thought me lovelier than when we first met, and the dew was fresh on the tight bud that was me......

ridiculous to think that my now open petals, dark, rich, resplendant,

hanging heavy and swollen in dark red velvet richness, my scent overpowering.....would be considered even more beautiful than i was.

the rose fully blossomed....

and,,,,i feel my thorns,

feel my smallness

i am mad...

mad he does not see me

the way i want him to see me....

his words shut me down...

i can feel the energy drain from me...

feel the fatigue

feel my age....

and,,,,

suddenly ....

in my own mind.....

my curves are no longer luscious...

my scent no longer intoxicating,

my breasts no longer sensitive to touch and desire....

my sex becomes dry....

how?

tell me, sweet reader, how do i compete with a ghost of myself?

i cannot hate her...for she is me...

i cannot compete...for she is gone.....

and why does it make me want to shatter every mirror in the house?

because...

i am weak...

i am frail...

i am vanity...

and yet...

and yet...i continue to dream...continue to put on the paper shade.....

for

i long, mother eve, i long

to be .....

not what i was.....

but...

to be taken as i am

now...

resplendant in my fullness of being

(woe)man.