That sweet innocent look staring back at me.
Lies: I see right past your smoke and mirrors.
You’re pretending to be something you’re not.

The light captures those shapely arms
and toned abs just right.
You know what to say and how to say it.
The likes make it abundantly clear.

Sexy. Sultry.

What is it about you?
I wanna tell the world you’re a big fat liar.
‘Fess up buttercup.

I know because the moment your worth
is challenged, you attack.
Nice-nice one minute.
B*tchy undertones and steely silence the next.

You blossomed into exactly
what they expected of you and beyond.
Prettier than you ever dreamed.
Attention came at you, but for all the wrong reasons.

You became obsessed with being perfect.
The stares and drools were addictive.
Men played out their fantasies of you
and you enjoyed that power.
The cunning puppeteer.

But what about your empty soul?
What holes are you trying to fill?

Your existence is precious but you couldn’t believe it.
You were too busy hiding your flawed humanness
to see that you didn’t need to pretend
who you were. A girl who grew up being told
she was never good enough.

You’re ashamed. I see that little girl
who was the ugly one; she got ranked 1 out of 10.
You were the chubby kid whose
thighs rubbed together and bore
holes in her Kmart jeans.

Let me see the real you goddammit.
Imperfections and all.
Not the cover girl you believed
you needed to be.

All I wanna do is taste
the bitterness you’ve lived,
the love that died,
the failures tied to your worth.

Let down your guard.
Your defenses are futile for
a meaningful life.
We need more of the fumbles, the trips, and falls.

Come join me.
We can be friends who dance together
and stomp in the puddles.
Squish our toes in the mud.
We can hold each other with a tenderness
that finally lets our hearts heal.

Sister, we are all in this together.
You and me.
I’m not better than you. I am you.

~