I stare at them
Two bowls of synthetic jello
Mimics of fatty tissue and skin
Modern day miracles!
Flesh colored, my color of course.
As I bend them the wrong way
They crease. No. Shrivel...
Reminding me of future wrinkles,
Future sags and future judgments,
Future defects in need of future fixings.
Beauty, shallower than skin deep.
On the concave side,
The cellophane peels off
Revealing an adhesive surface
Strong enough to bind
Mounds of fragile insecurities.
Enhancements, I am told
You... Only better
The way You were meant to be
The way You should be
The YOU! worthy of love.