Walls Up
I wear red on my nails
to go with my red hair
to be visible.
But brown eyes
disappear behind horn rims,
glasses a barrier between you and me.
It's as if I can't decide.
So some days I wear makeup,
dress nice and turn heads,
even if the traffic keeps moving.
Other days I wear sweats,
put my hair in a ponytail
and schlep around the house,
real walls between myself and the world.
Just don't get too close.
I can't keep up this charade
for long, I think.
And wonder if anyone knows
the real me.
If I let them.
If I only let them.
September 18, 2009
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 507 times
Written on 2009-09-25 at 02:32
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