A Girl

What is a woman,
But beauty and perfection?
For you certainly are -
Both, despite your convictions
And firm beliefs
That you are flawed.
You are beautiful beyond compare,
With warm, soft skin
And a presence that radiates
Strength and confidence.
Raw sexual appeal
And a proud bearing
Of knowing what you are worth.
Which is, to say,
A lot.

But beneath that is a shell
That I only catch glimpses
Of
In wayward words or stray comments
That make me feel guilty and wonder.
Or the sadness in your eyes
That sometimes seeps out.
Intoxicating, like a brew,
Making me feel angry and hateful.
Those brown eyes that hold
Creativity, loneliness, confidence
And torment, all in one.
Every time I feel that we connect
Only to discover that I don't truly understand.
As, I suspect, you don't understand, either, the way our feelings get in the way.

I watch in amazement
In your bedroom
As you write and write, giving birth to worlds that spirit me away,
Leaving me feel inadequate and awkward, an infant scribbling mere words.
And I watch as I see you,
On the verge of tears, with that tremor in your voice,
Saying, swearing,
"Everything is fine!"
But it is not; for I see the vulnerability
And the damage that others have caused.
All I want is to hold you tight,
To wipe the tears and bitter memories away:
To open myself up and show you, that we are not so different
Or apart.
Two souls needing to be loved.