like if i could just be some
brown-skinned green-eyed goddess,
with long legs topped by little else,
i could have everything i want--
like if i could fulfill
someone else's dream or expectation,
i could get what i need from you.
all these pretty lies, stepping in file
from your mouth to my ear,
whose fault is it that i should cling
to such falsehoods?
there is a promise on your lips
for something bigger and better but
i must deserve it, by wearing stilettos
and mascara and one of those chains
winding from my ears to my navel.
like if i could just be something slight
and pretty, it would be enough.
and when you're bored,
when there is something else sugary
and tanned walking by,
what would be left for me? just some dream,
not even an ideal, just a moment
belonging inside a club but never out.
i keep the heels in the closet,
the makeup in its bag,
the loneliness close to my heart.