I no longer know who I am.
I decorate my shell as the mirage I suspect you yearn to swim in, entranced with
the quench of feminine attention, unconcerned with the slug inside.
I can’t share what I don’t have.
So yes, drinks, dinner, or just your time,
Stare into my eyes, gawk at my body but please…….don’t look at me.
I turn to dust in silence.
I’m an open book, in a language you’ll never comprehend…..a public statue whose reference you don’t recognize yet use as a landmark of your experience.
Feel the braille on my lips.
So leave me here, in your fantasy, in your dream, in your darkness……its where I feel the safest anyway......