Stood in front of you
With a fashionable smile
Wore all covers
Posing as beauty…
Like a hunted deer
Free, but targeted
Your eyes on me
Saving your best shot…
Did I fit in the square?
Those four angles
My four limits
How could I dare?
Ask.
See.
Feel.
Believe.
You still stare
Through the glass
Like there wasn’t
Another side…
Flash, and I see
The lens reflects
The true nakedness.
A hit target…
In your hands
A real model
Worthy of that shot
Now lying, on shiny paper.
Spotted...
Chosen…
Taken…
Captured.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem