Dirty Little Secret

[carose59]

Dirty Little Secret

Putting on lipstick
mascara,
stockings

sliding silk down my breasts,
whispers over my thighs
for a man who cannot see me.

My heart is beating too fast, talking about this.
My hands type the words wrong.
They only want to protect me, keep me from saying these words.

Here, let me show you the scar.

Yes, I did it myself.

I lie in bed at night and feel your arms around me.
I rest my head on your chest, lie, lie, lie, and sleep.

Somehow, that dream where I was following Warren Beatty down a long dirt road is a part of this,
but I'll be damned if I know how.
Two years ago?
Three?
Sometimes, thinking about you is like chewing razor blades.
I'm tired of my heart and soul being treated like a pathology.

Didn't Guildenstern say reality was just what was mutually agreed upon by the majority?
Unfortunately, he's a character in a play, so he's not much help in talking things out.
Or not any more help than talking to dead people.
Or live people who aren't here.

I want you to hold me,
Tell me I'm beautiful.

Do you think I don't know how shameful this is?
Do you think I don't know neither one of us really exists?
Do you think it matters?

Too much of me lives in that unreal world:
the one where I'm pretty
and you're alive.
And talking to you has taken me to depths undreamed of.
I peel away layers
Don't tell me it isn't true!
I know it isn't true!
But just because it isn't true, that doesn't mean
it isn't truth.

Comments

[kimberlyknits.livejournal.com]

Have I yet told you how envious I am of your ability to write like this?

No?

O.K., let me tell you: You write like a goddess. Sheer beauty in everything you write, even in the darkest passages. In a gazillion years, I'll never even have anything close to that kind of talent.

[carose59.livejournal.com]

It means so much to me that you feel that way. (Sometimes I read these over and wonder what in the name of God I was thinking, writing this stuff down?! And then posting them in public?)