He said I look like one of DaVinci's sketches
I smiled sadly
(maybe that's why?)
and told him I didn't feel like one.
I feel like Monet inside
with Klimt's gold burning my skin.
I feel like he sees all of me,
'though none of me is visible.
I have memorized every false detail of him,
as he feeds me half-truths and flattery.
These do not nourish me;
I hunger.
No comments:
Post a Comment