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| Photo By Emilie Trouillet, https://www.flickr.com/photos/ahbahbravo/ |
I am not Ofelia, eyes fixed on the ceiling,
a bunch of wild flowers in the bath tube.
I am not a suicidal blonde,
sleeping a barbituric dream.
I am not the princes in the marble tower,
I am not the object of desire.
I know I am not a damsel in distress
and I know
that distresses you because I can see.
I can see the stains on your blue suit,
the worn mask of charm
the cracks in your leather boots,
the black line of dirth and sweet around your neck.
