Wind whispers through
her spiderweb soul, fragile-seeming
but hard to destroy;
inner strength like steel
fortifies her
Her flawless flaws
are always concealed behind
high-end maquillage
Body and face are her canvas;
when one cannot draw, or paint,
one fashions themselves
into their own work of art
and pretends she doesn't fall asleep
on a tear-stained silk pillowcase
each night
Glossy chocolate hair, ebony lashes,
her willowy statuesque form
tottering on Vivier stilettos
lithe arms with a Sobranie Cocktail
everpresent,
there to stave off the
incessant pangs of hunger
that might mar her quest for
perfection
The dermatologist administers peels
to remove layers of aged skin
like making rings on a tree disappear;
injections fatten the flesh,
for the face of youth is plump, taut;
It hurts to be beautiful
It hurts so much
with thanks to etouffee