Pretty, Like That? Poem by Eloisa Gearhart

Is it easier to be coded and hard to decipher?
For then

You can be labeled...

unusual
a lunatic, mysterious, troubled
discarded into a mildewed cardboard box
Tiptoe walking upon the rim
absorbing the constant stares of adoration
from others who are appreciative of your name or fame
who accept you only because you are bizarre as a circus act

Silently,
no froth from damned words
of chapped lips that parted
The issuing of a blessing and a curse

Cleanly, 'There be none of that making you nauseous,
causing you to turn your head away'

Me
staying where I belong
like the China doll still in her box, untouched, preserved
with her too white and frozen skin
wearing the same grin that haunts me if I stare too long

Pounding to your rhythm
pretty as a flower
a virgin in the meadow

Twirling
Approachable
You pluck and spin
the stem
carrying the aroma on your fingers you walk away with it wilting in your grip

Would it help if I was pretty, like that?