Sunday, June 19, 2005

Beautiful Broken Girl

Stunning, gorgeous, the woman that other women love, admire and simultaneously hate and envy, men wish they have her, or are in love with her. Large, dark eyes, pools people call them, pools that you fall into when you stare into them, or as you make love to her. Her smile, a real smile, a wonderful laugh, she’s always smiling I’m told. The longer you look at her the more beautiful she seems, every time you see her face you’re struck by something new. Not tall but slim enough that she has a body with all the curves in the right places, sexy curves that hold clothes right, and a posture that begets confidence. Amazing legs, shapely, curved and a man's greatest desire is to stroke her legs, have them wrapped around them. Burnished bronze, a warm brown, a pale mocha, a colouring that water runs off like rivulets down a golden stream. Skin that you want to stroke, always soft, always begging for touch, gentle slopes and lines that call to be caressed, the curve of her hip, the flatness of her stomach, the clarity of her back and the roll of her derriere. Innocence, a vulnerability that men want to protect, a beautiful girl they can care for, a woman that gives them sexuality. Eyes that show them the world, a body that takes them to heights, and they want to make love to her, claim her, they want to be part of her. This beautiful creature they all want to possess and be loved by.

The beautiful girl, the beautiful, beautiful broken girl. But you never see the broken, even she forgets how broken she is. Its like playing charades with yourself, put enough masks on, control enough things and you’ll never know you're broken till the cracks start to come through the papier mache you lovingly layered on piece by piece. But water and paper only last so long before they begin to peel and the ugly starts to glare through, like needles piercing up from the skin.

She wants to scream till her veins break the surface of her skin, yell till sound ceases to be, damn you, you don’t know her, you don’t, its hell, its an illusion, an illusion that makes her seem so beautiful. You see the only thing she has is this beautiful girl, this beautiful shell that hides all the tears, the hate, the broken, broken soul that lives inside. You love her, you love this image you see, this creation that she cares and tends to, to hide all the ugliness that tears inside. If she didn’t have this shell, the haunting vulnerability you find so endearing, would you still want her, crave her, need her, admire her, lust for her and idolize her? Ask yourself that, what is it that you want of her?

She’s nothing, this beautiful girl, she is her affirmation, it brings you to her, to love her and make her feel whole and wanted. You see, she needs you more than you need her. She thrives off your love and adulation, she doesn’t have it, she doesn’t make it, and she doesn’t see it. I see it in your eyes, your words, your actions, your touch; you make her feel whole, affirmed and wanted. You don’t see the ugly hiding in the corner, and you make her forget about her, that beaten, insecure, weak creature that she is. But she’s my heart and soul, she is I, the me I want to erase, but I love her. She is my heart, a heart so covered in scars that I cant give you any of it, I cant find it, I don’t know if its there, does it still work. Please don’t ask for that heart, please don’t ask me to feel it or find it, I don’t know how to feel, I don’t know how to access, its gone, long gone. But I have this beautiful girl for you, but if you push her too hard, try to find the path into the ugly, she’ll hurt you, don’t go near her, she’s untouchable, she’s my ugly, she’s the ugly you cant see, because she breaks me, breaks the beautiful girl to nothing, to pieces, and maybe to death.

But, you know what, she’s there, and I cant ignore her because she cries with me and is a part of me. We’re twins, born together, married through sickness and in health, till death do us part. And I can’t forget about her, she needs my strength, I need hers or we’ll both die. This will consume us.