My skin is the color of simple, but my eyes are always open wide so that I never see the sun, I see an artist with long golden fingers who paints the world a color in which darkness does not survive. So that I never see the tree, I see a strong-boned man whose reflection in the glass mirror is his own shadow. So that I never see my eyes as brown, I see a golden summer flower that has been kissed by a bumblebee. So that whenever I look out the window at night, I never see a sleeping world, I see my own dreams coming to life, fishes no longer trapped in the sea, swimming and living amongst the stars; I see myself drifting above the waves of sound, dancing with a dress made of the finest cotton-clouds where light shines on both sides.
My skin is the color of simple, but when I open my eyes I can plainly see that I am back on Earth, and here, quiet girls are not attractive.
YOU ARE READING
Beyond the Words
Poetry"A poem begins with a lump in the throat." (Robert Frost) Collection of poems, Volume One (2012-2013) © Copyright by Dahlia Pimentel. All rights reserved.
