morning glory
i've drawn the curtains.
i've turned off the light.
i allow some to see through,
to glimpse my face
so they'll think they know.
but they only see what i give them to see.
it is but a curtain
a flimsy thing really
that separates them
from the real me.
with curtains open
and light pouring in
i feel better, more myself
i breathe the sweet air
that reaches me unhindered.
i am nicer to myself
and stronger and more graceful
to those around me
the freshness inside of me
is the freshness around me
but they don't see that.
when they come close,
i subtly draw the curtains
leaving a slice of light and air,
retreating.
like a morning glory
bullied by the noonday sun
whose fragile petals
draw themselves uptight.
they cannot see the glory within.
it is so automatic
i'm gone before i know it,
and when i'm gone long enough
i don't even miss me.
the slice becomes my reality.
i've turned off the light.
i allow some to see through,
to glimpse my face
so they'll think they know.
but they only see what i give them to see.
it is but a curtain
a flimsy thing really
that separates them
from the real me.
with curtains open
and light pouring in
i feel better, more myself
i breathe the sweet air
that reaches me unhindered.
i am nicer to myself
and stronger and more graceful
to those around me
the freshness inside of me
is the freshness around me
but they don't see that.
when they come close,
i subtly draw the curtains
leaving a slice of light and air,
retreating.
like a morning glory
bullied by the noonday sun
whose fragile petals
draw themselves uptight.
they cannot see the glory within.
it is so automatic
i'm gone before i know it,
and when i'm gone long enough
i don't even miss me.
the slice becomes my reality.