Picture

You love me. But I am not as you pictured.

I am rife with experience, as it is made in the lines of my faces.

You glance at me like I am abnormal- something easily digestible in a peripheral, but clotting in closeness.

I am not sorry I continue. I am sorry the pain I brought. you- but you hurt me too. You do not acknowledge that. Happy to play a victim on our turntable game.

I smile despite it. barbed birds and heavy, serrated tongue.

I will be nothing they expect.