I stride in and the room
Swivels its head,
All two thousand eyes staring,
Some ogling instead.
I know they know,
The numbers and the digits of my
Body, better than I know myself.
I get off the ramp,
Away from the blaring lights,
And the time slows
Amidst the crowded floors.
Someone noisily whispers,
"I heard that's all plastic,"
While the other emits a
Short string of chuckles.
There stands the paunchy man
Who called me fat when I gained a pound.
There goes the woman with scissors,
Who called me pale,
While her assistant called me brown.
A bald man with tape
Bites into a donut.
My mouth lechers after the sugar;
Like my sobriety,
It's been wanting for four years.
Times speeds up,
And I've had enough.
I slap off my dress,
heels and doubts,
And walk back to the ramp
With a donut and my blouse,
Already ten times lighter
Towards the astonished crowd.
Poetry Citrus is a long time reader of fiction and writer of poetry. She believes poetry is an elegant form of capturing our emotions and voices. WordPress: (Write in Shining Armor) Poetry Citrus; Instagram: @poetrycitrus
Photo Cover Credit: Luiza Danco
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