11 Days ’til November

This page rejects
the pretence of insecurity
It does not flaunt its heritage
like a hard won trophy
or throw its voice across the room
like a weapon;
it keeps its secrets
to itself.

Look at me, my beautiful
plumage, my new boyfriend
the perfumed lady cries
exclaiming her presence
her au naturel, her grand
sense of ease, her
honest frankness, her sheer
lack of consideration
for the finer points of kindness
and yet
she is nothing like this,
a stranger borne
on currents unfelt by us
lesser mortals

When abandoned by happiness
we find new appeal
in old illusions

-T.H. (Patchwork Journal, 07.05.11)

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