Who did you want me to be?

Am I her?

Or is it the one on the screen,

Maybe even someone we see every day?

I know you look with disdain on

Questions such as these.

I know a past you didn’t see

Punishes the present most unfairly.

But, there is this clawing creature

Writhing deep inside of me

That tugs mercilessly for the 

Unreachable answers…

Namely, did the promised package

Disappoint upon opening?

Did I prove unpretty in the unflattering morning ?

Unsexy in the tiredness of night?

Unreliable in too many ways?

Not as tough or adventurous as the 

Tool-wielding,

Race-car-revving,  

Bicep-building,

Bosom-heaving 

Women of ambition 

You surreptiously admire 

So well?

Did I prove more bitter to the taste

Than your liking?

Do my sagging social butterfly wings

Deflate you?

Do you see in me a

Growing albatross,

A nagging obligation

You feel too responsible to

Set aside?

Or have vain imaginings and 

Rampant insecurity

Once again taken over my mind?

For, really, according to outward signs,

You seem devoted,

You seem to even get who I am, 

Sometimes,

Though I know I irritate you

In the process…

Ah, maybe, it’s best left

Unaddressed,

Unhealthy as they say it is.

For, I know the creature is mostly

A creation built up in the recesses of time,

Relevant to history, but now with little reason or rhyme…

But, if only I could still the questions in me

And rest my heart completely inside…

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