The Object of Envy is Still Objectified

She was and still is.

She was amazing beautiful;
And so, it seemed to me
That life came easily to her
A cinch – simplicity –

She could attract most anyone
If that was in her mind;
Got into any nightclub, even
With the longest line

I saw that others envied her;
I think I did, as well –
And she seemed quite aware of this
As best as I could tell

For she was liked and hated, both
By those who’d simply view her;
But wanted, once, to be admired
By one who really
Knew her

Möbius Strip

From good to bad to worse and back to good

Möbius strip

These selfies made of verse
Have gone from bad to worse;
For the whole gist?
A narcissist
I am – and it’s a curse.

I write down how I feel
As though that’s some big deal:
But what’t the point?
To self-anoint
And bear the martyr’s seal?

Perhaps, if I looked out
I’d see what it’s about.
But do I dare?
It’s dark out there,
Befogged by fear and doubt —

These verses, though, can be
An aid, if you’re like me:
For writing shows
My life still goes
And not just
Pointlessly

Night Reading

I fall asleep reading.

I’ll fall asleep reading again tonight

It’s kind of what I do;

I sit down excited to read some more

And poof, that’s it, I’m through

.

I fall asleep dreaming of what I’ve read,

New worlds come into view;

These places, I can do impossible things

Like read a whole book through

Well Off Better Off

The privileged…

The privileged rarely recognize

That they are privileged;

And we’re all privileged

To somebody.

Therefore

There are those who think

We should be more grateful,

And they

Are probably right.

Photo Credit: © Sjm1123 | Dreamstime.com – Sitting And Watching Photo

Days of Magic and Illusion

… Way back when …

I’d love to be a fly on the wall
Way back when
We first met

I’d like to see if I could tell now
That you never really loved me

I want to see how I missed it
How I believed your lies
Hell, if you believed your lies

Falling in love like I did
Is a kind of mental and emotional illness
That blocks out reality
In place of something made from imagination

And while I can’t go back and change it
Maybe if I could go back and see it

I could forgive myself

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fly on the Wall.”