The Outer


Here we see a woman sitting at her desk
She’s wearing a tiny black nightdress
The woman is writing what appears to be a letter
We assume the contents of the letter must be romantic
As she kisses the letter, leaving the outline of red lips

The woman is flawless
Like a doll made of porcelain

Short black hair
With the most delicate curls
Pale white skin
With the most strategically placed beauty marks
Eyes as green as a forest
With a soul you can see

She is no longer at her desk
The window is open
The curtains are flowing from the breeze

Do you see what happens when we assume

Do you see what happens when we focus on beauty

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This Poems Story

A woman who is tired of only being seen, and not heard has her way.