Fading Beauty

There’s a screen between us, opaque; it filters our lives.

What you see is who I want to be and what I see is what
I imagine.

Now, you are the romantic; a tragic figure fights for his
rights, an amusement for the upper class.

I dance on the table, flushed with shame, for this I will
win the crown.

I am little Miss America lost on her stroll down the aisle.

I’m your little darling who forgot to look harmless.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2016-2017

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