Monalisa

"My body is my canvas," she said
My own masterpiece
But what if all of the things I am grateful for
My so-called masterpiece is not one of them
What if my canvas doesn't want to speak of beauty
What if my canvas cries
What if my canvas lies...


"But you're too beautiful," she said
You're your own catastrophe
I try to destroy her
One etch at a time
One pretty brush stroke painted red
One more pound to shed
Because under those layers of make-up and clothes
She's crying
Begging you to see something else
Beyond the blonde hair and blue eyes
They say, "Hitler's wet dream"


Maybe she want's to be more than Barbie
Maybe she feels less than alive
Because she's like to not panic in a public place
Worried that someone will invade her space


This catastrophic masterpiece
Makes her wonder... worry
Does my body say, "invade me?"
Do I need to hide some more?


My body is a canvas
I'm not so grateful for

Butterflies

Her eyes
Have seen butterflies flutter
From caterpillar to cocoon
To spreading her wings in the late afternoon


Her eyes
Have seen sunrises color
The starry night sky slowly transforms
Into a hand-painted gift in the early morn


Her eyes
Have seen raindrops splatter
The first sign of a summer shower trickles down her cheek
Soon there are puddles awaiting dancing feet


Her eyes
Have seen beauty begin


Her eyes
Have seen love departed
A family trying to build the perfect picture
Found to frame the picture better without her


Her eyes
Have seen darkness created
A never-ending storm of destruction
Tears were the rain, pain and dysfunction


Her eyes
Have seen dreamers berated
She's not good enough, she'll never measure up
She tried to kill herself instead of growing up


Her eyes
Have seen darker hours


Her eyes
Have seen a body betray her
Barely breathing, barely living, barely dead
"My body's trying to kill me," she said


Her eyes
Have seen a ghost haunt her
They could never understand why she's so fearful
Of the ghost of a man that stands vigil


Her eyes
Have seen what the rosebush did to her
And she knows it was no rosebush then
That carved those lines on her skin


Her eyes...


Sometimes
Her eyes wish they'd just stay shut
Because now
Her eyes
Have seen too much


Her eyes
Have seen butterflies shatter.