Two Characters

It mattered not
that she was naked
or vain,
whether her flesh held
a starburst
of freckles
or was rough, and creased
and old.
Wealthy, brunette
and fat,
or
poverty’s daughter,
it did not matter.
Only that
she
was allowed to live
on a vacant, white page.

It mattered only
to him.
For he, himself, knew
of her vulnerabilities
and,
of his.
That she would breath
his thoughts
did not matter to
him.
For when she could
stand alone, even
awkwardly, on the page,
haute couture
or otherwise,
she would find her
independence, from him.

©2014 j.g. lewis

This month is all about poetry.
Something new every day.