You think that you know her
because you have seen her bare
but there is more to her
than just the flesh you have become
so enamored with.
You wouldn’t know it
because you care not to look,
but she has a scar just beneath her chin
that she tries to hide.
She got it when she fell off her bike
because her father was never there
to teach her
and her landlady could never quite
find the time.
You ‘love’ the sensuous curve of her thighs
in her favorite pair of jeans
but do you know that it’s to hide
the cuts she left upon herself
when the mother she so desperately needed
was off in the arms of another pathetic excuse
for a man?
Do you have any idea
the caliber of demons she fights
every goddamn night
because every friend she ever had
had given her another excuse
to give up on mankind?
Do you notice the way her soul just
crackles with life
when she is deep in her favorite book
or the way her nose
that she always thought was too big
will puff up when she is upset?
Can you even fathom
the walls she has lowered
for you to call her something as base
No, you cannot.
Nor do you really even care.
All you see is the pinnacle of flesh,
and all I see
This is the difference between us.