Lawn

Finding out the grass is really greener on the other side...

Lawn

The man I love looks at other women. Looks at them on a screen of glass, metal and bright lights. Flickers of pictures that swipe, like and heart. Angles and filtered told truths about who they really are. They aren’t real; they are the people they want you to believe. They are the faces they want the people to see. Not the true woman behind the lined eyes and gloss and glitter. The long hair isn’t real, but cut and woven into their scalp. The long lashes aren’t real, glued and individually placed lovingly to flutter. That glow that shimmers and gleams youth in dawns morning light is powdered, brushed and dappled on.

But if it was those women you looked at, it would be ok. But its not. You look at one girl. Younger by two year. Skin gleaming with a natural glow and beauty that is uncommon today. Her hair is long and untouched by the lotions and potions, peroxides and dyes. Her lashes are deftly swept with mascara to accentuate their long natural curls and flutter. Her skin is clear of scars and lines that now blemish and mar my own. Her body has the strength and grace my frame has never been able to achieve.

I have watched and seen, secret minutes of watching. Observing her through your glass screen. Seen your likes and hearts that show your appreciation. It breaks me. Because I will never be that girl. The one I know you now long for, maybe not fully but in a distant part of your inner self.

I know you search because it is not something you have in front of you. You look at her and I wish I were her just so I could be everything you want. But I’m broken and you settled. I am not her and never will be. I can change, shift, diet and try to become the natural source you crave and spend stolen moments looking for. But I will still be her, the girl who chose you first before you ever chose me. The girl of many troubles and many years spent together. The one that hopes and dreams you will love me with your whole heart. Because a whole heart wouldn’t yearn for grass greener on the other side. A whole heart would see their small patch of grass as an abundance of land, a  field ripe and beautiful. But I am just your lawn, withered and browning from your wandering eyes over a picket fence. Wandering eyes that watch a girl who is not me through a screen of glass, metal and bright lights.

Author's Note

This is something I haven't done for a long time, so please ignore grammar etc