Deconstructing Eve

I bruise easy: the price to pay
for the precious flesh I wear
taut on my petite frame,
I long for my skin to suffocate
as a Clingfilm cocoon.
Take care to paint me
gingerly erasing all blemishes.
Cleanse my skin,
deconstruct my form
or drain me if necessary,
for I am going to look beautiful,
tonight I diet: the sacrifice
to be wanted by their eyes.
No sweet cakes to churn bitter vomit.
No alcohol, for I can not lose focus.

You linger for hours unsure
of how to approach
such a splendid specimen,
unsure on which areas to
improve upon.
Ready the scalpels, skin grafts
and lasers,
consult diagrams and magazines
full of pictures of naked
beauties you used to
masturbate on,
now to be studied to perfect
this  fatal flaw.
When I am completed immerse
my skin in Vaseline for there
must be easy motion
on my lusted flesh: the price to pay
when reconstructing Eve.     

Reflective Love

Spat on to its surface to
cleanse vigorously
all the distortion of filth
I pressed against its skin;
frozen and lifeless
or only maybe a cold shoulder of support.
Its icy touch awakened a perverse pleasure.
I am ashamed to admit I was aroused.

An untarnished beauty dazzled before me,
meekly moving closer for a clearer inspection,
recognising it for the first time as my own reflection,
gazing out from its  polished face,
with dark circles decorating its dreamy eyes.
I stared envious of its flawless pale skin
void of all the imperfections
I noted of my own body.

I kissed its ruby lips exhaling passion
but it faded with my breath.
I mourned its vanishing form
for I wanted it to shine, for me alone.
I did not want to touch fearing
I would mutilate its perfection,
given no choice my fingers traced softly
revealing again its fluid outline.

I cast down my eyes fearing its reaction.
An eternity passed, I had to look up.
I trembled nervously as our bodies touched.
Its eyes reassured. It smiled warmly
with a grace I could never possess,
then guided me with passionate caresses,
I submitted gently as its body
flowed in erotic waves through me.

Adore Me

"Vanity of Vanities, the Preacher says,
Vanity of vanities. All is Vanity." - Ecclesiastes. 

Freed from stone, given form
and made warm by your love,
then cast out into the coldest dawn.
Presented as perfection to this world,
abandoned, grounded and wingless.

In this world of mirrors I fed on their adoration;
a rich delicacy consumed in greed.
The weight of worship bloated my skin.
Adored: but rejected as soon as the cracks surfaced.
Moving my fingers in desperation over the scars,

(Scratch, abrade, scratch the surface)

There was no way to erase this,
even abused and betrayed myself.
In desperation I attempted to induce vomiting.
Met with failure, I severed my arms for silence at last.
Once again adored: The true Venus De Milo.