Her glossy eyes belie the tumult of a churning ocean within that rises up and ebbs low, deeper and deeper it goes; within lies dormant, a sea monster, a green monster that feels a nudge, opens one eye and glares at her soul, her quivering aching soul, which stands before a forked road – one way she thinks she knows, one uncharted, and thereby, so tempting.
Her glossy smile hides the pain of a thousand heartaches inside, covering up muddy mossy pools – which is quicksand and which is vacuum, one can never know, but there’s a heart that aches for some freefall, a free run, a free pass, to be free. The cage is claustrophobia, it will close in, she will run away.
The guard is always up, the mask is always on. She keeps it up, this charade for cameras, even when there are no cameras around. Cameras can’t paint characters, they’re the unthinking, un-vocal, non-judgemental objects that only see her green eyes and apricot skin and red lips.
There’s no way they’ll manage to catch the grey within her. Not as long as she can smile her perfect smile that makes her eyes glow like fireflies on cold nights, like hope that they would all like to put into a jar and take home. They could shoot at her all day, under umbrellas, under the sun, stars, with fur, in the nude, on beaches, on rocks, in a kitchen, on a bed, in a cave, in a mood….but they’ll never get her.