Cinderella Walks

My shoes of dazzling diamonds

Have spikes on the inside;

The beauty I see when I walk

They turn into scorchingly painful nightmares;

/

My dresses, which like spring waters flow –

Were hand-woven from living adders;

When I walk, their touch makes my skin crawl

And my veins – overflow with venom;

/

My smile is the gate to my heart –

It’s a scar that refuses to heal,

Proudly showing itself to the world as I walk;

I once believed naively that scars, too, had appeal;

/

My eyes from two grains of grey sand

Have grown into two mountains of granite;

I carry my mountains wherever I walk,

And dance on their slopes with bleeding feet,

A crippled smile, wearing Cinderella’s cerement

The Portrait

I draw my thoughts and feelings

On your face,

Imagining they are

Your own,

/

And put such words between your lips

As you would never say;

To me

It matters not

/

That you do not exist

The way I see you:

A book in progress

I complete too soon

/

An empty canvas, which I over-paint

With meaning,

But dry paint cracks, and you emerge –

The true you I don’t know