velveteen smiles
bedroom buttoned eyes
what is real

daydreaming of dark nights
in this artificial atmosphere
where childhood was a factory
adolescence spent as a plaything
and continued here in my adulthood
the seams and stitches
start to show

which story would you like me to tell
about how good we've been together
now that some time has gone by

like a knife drawn from palm to underarm
opening me up to take a look and afterwards
I'll be searching for someone else who'll sew me up
my pink circled cheeks still shining
for silver memory, the hint
of something else in my dry straw heart
the raghopes of storybook love
enough meaning to make me feel

wasn't I surprised this morning
to find the sign of my insides seeping out
when I was trying to powder my face