Golden Heels

February 22, 2011
I am in front of the backyard waterfall.
My feet are crooked from standing on the rugged stone tile because my golden heels are to narrow and fragile.
As I am trying not to squint my eyes from the bright neon sun, I look into the camera
forcing a fake smile it's hiding my fear
and rejection.
My back is tired from my straight rod-like posture.
I have never stood as straight as I am standing now.
I want my shoulders to look broad,
and my body to look tall.
The dress I wear shows off my curves and shapes my body well.
It's clear I am not afraid to show that I have something there,
but I am afraid
of my own body image
as if I don't want people to stare.
When the wind blows lightly I notice the small smell of my strong fake designer perfume.
I am now representing someone I am not.
I look back at the photo that was taken that day.
I remember every specific detail.
I am not okay.
I looked nice, and I tried to be perfect,
but I will never be that way.
I created a self image of greediness.
It is now physically impossible to hide.
I never planned
my life to be this way.
Never again do I want to see that picture of me.
golden heels should have
never fit my feet.

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UncleFester said...
Nov. 19, 2011 at 4:59 pm
A very touching and insightful poem. You clearly have a gift for expressing yourself.
LilyRose said...
Nov. 19, 2011 at 12:21 pm
Sometimes I feel the sadness that you often put into your poetry.  At times I  think you don't see YOU as other people see you--kind, thoughtful, caring--an exceptionally good teenager.  Please believe that many people love you.
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