I have grown so much.
So, I might add that this does not apply to me anymore.
I will never change who I am just to please someone else.
I will be me.
Tutus
A young teenaged girl lightly
Holds a creamy mesh handkerchief
Between her fingers, resting against her tutu,
almost unnoticeable because of its transparency.
Her frayed tutu fringes into the background,
And her body is illuminated with a yellow
Glowing color, like she is the
Goddess of Beauty: Aphrodite.
Her lips are accented with a shiny peach colored lip balm,
Lips pursed together.
Her ballerina flats are a lighter shade of her lips.
The satin ribbon ties twice around her
Ankle, once in a cross.
Her hair is layered and in wavy brown crimps
That brighten into surroundings at the tips.
The ballerina’s skin, as pale as her tights,
Fights against the rosy blush she has rounded onto
The apples of her cheeks.
The ballerina tries to convey a message to the artist
Painting her, that that is all she has. She has
The tutu and the eyes of the painter to live for.
Her feathered hair is why she lives.
She lives for the blue accent on her waist,
And the satin ties sitting on her shoulders.
She lives to leave a good impression.
I wear a tutu and pose for the camera,
Not as gracefully, and with a boisterous
Smile blowing up on my rounded face.
I was a ballerina when I was five years old.
I wore tutus covered in shiny sequins, and rich
Red wine colored lipstick on my small lips.
I miss wearing tutus and colored tights.
I miss being graceful and eloquent in actions.
Over the years, I have become “tougher”
To avoid shame or hate,
or to let my pride be affected.
I hide my insecurities with boldness
That has blanketed my inner “lady-like” disposition.
It’s covered my desires to walk lightly on my feet
And to speak only with elegant words.
Like the ballerina, I have blanketed my insecurities.
In an effort to blend in, she frays ends of
Her tutu and feathers her hair,
like how I fray and fringe my true personality to
avoid rejection.
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