Underneath Your Clothes

I don't really sleep very often
I have artificial and minutely neccessary means to keep me from falling into my own dreams.
The other night though,
in a state of puro exhustion,
we went to prom
and I had two dresses, one was teal and didn't fit well
it made me think of "I adore you because you have made me a whore"
and I didn't like the way it stretched my skin
the second was pink and beautiful and perfect
and fell in curtains around my feet
I wore the later, over a fantastic bodice of lime and black lace

you watched me as I watched you get ready
in front of a thousand mirrors
my skin itched
anticipation
you looked back at me, and smiled
and I could hardly bear my heartbeat echoing behind my ribcage

I woke up feeling sad
because you were beautiful and perfect
the next time I saw you
I blinked, I know only for a fraction of a second
but I saw you, beautiful and perfect
and I remembered why I don't sleep
yet I couldn't help questioning why I don't sleep more

I was unfortunatly inspired to watch "Prom Night in Kansas City" after all was said and done. It wasn't good. It addressed and validified my contempt for humans between the ages of 13 and 19.

Is it okay that I am okay with you seeing me as I am rather than you seeing me as I want to be seen?

Love always,
LS (which come to find out, happens to also be 2/3 of my initials!)