Notes on Authenticity
Feeling of
the feeling underneath the feeling,
Beneath
the finely-woven, pink-thread sweater with sparkly plastic
buttons
chosen after hours of barefoot pacing before my closet door;
smiles
forced and phrases overheard from parents copied and
automatically
used, the mechanics of habit and the deep
desire to
Break Free. Living inside created worlds and
only
wanting to escape into a hot shower, fog, citrus-smelling,
steaming
the glass pane and relieving congestion. Carefully constructed
nails
painted red or grey, according to the mood, and still –
there’s a
glass wall separating me from you.
Maybe it’s
not about being authentic;
Maybe it’s
about removing the need
To be. To bury, split, water, to nourish this
intrepid seed.
Elizabeth Hamilton