Inner Doubts. Poem by Terry Collett

What does he see
when he looks at me?
you ask
hair, eyes,
strawberry lips,
earrings of pearl,
aristocratic features.

Yes, but what of me?
What beyond the eyes?

You have watched him
come and talk,
and smile and laugh,
and make love
(that greedily) ,
but what does he
know of me?
il me dentro?

You have heard his words;
seen his look
when he thought
you were not looking;
watched him at sex, at play.

What does he say?
You knows he likes
your hat, flower crested,
of straw crafted,
but what of me?
Of the inner self
he cannot see?

He is shallow,
skin deep,
a puddle brain.

Will he love me?
You say,
lonely once again.