By Kea Yoshinaka, TIWP Student
Her mornings start wrapped in white silk sheets,
golden hair spilling over her thin shoulders
and she rises with the sun.
She isn’t awake until layer upon layer of cream,
serum, blushes, and powders are applied.
She is not herself until she is beautiful.
As the final stroke of gloss is applied to pouty rose lips,
she looks at herself
closer than ever.
Her nose presses against the glass
leaving a cloud of heat where her breath deserts her
and she stares.
I will let go.
I will be more than this.
But that day is not today
so she leans back in her chair
and stands to leave.
Her mother waits at the base of the stairs
smiling softly when she sees her.
She presses her lips to her head and whispers,
“You look beautiful.”
She turns when she feels tears brimming,
mustering a small “thank you” as she walks away,
a cold drop falls down her cheek.
Is this what it means to be loved?