Bonita

Pretty

Pretty, like those toys
I had back in the childhood days of yore
Pretty, like a stolen kiss
Like the tears falling,
With deep pleasure.

The honesty, of your faithful mirror
Put vanity in you
You know my anxiety
And you make a pleasure, out of the pain
That your pride shapes for me
Pretty, you’ve shattered your mirror
To see if that way I stop, suffering from your arrogance.