Between the Lines
So unaware
like a rosebud in a vase
how I looked
the sweep of my blonde hair
drifting past my cheekbones
or my fine brown eyes
that revealed nothing
my body, yes, it's all about the body
and how it looked.
They saw it all
and circled like sharks.
My naiveté protecting me,
a barrier that stopped all
but the most persistent of predators.
I kept the cage.
You think you can see right through it
to the real me--good, obedient,
a little slow on the uptake.
I'm not stupid. I
just can't get the words out.
They stick in my throat like thorns.
One day I'll escape this prison
like smoke on a cold November day.
November 7, 2015
prompt: "we're
being watched"
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