I miss the gazes
And the words that came with it.
Beauty in its simplicity,
It absolutely ruined me.
Demoted to a supporting role,
Never to be put on parole.

I miss the love I gave out
Without feelings of doubt.
Beauty in its venom,
Poised with momentum.
Demoted to a background character,
A mere carrier.

I miss the ability to ease
And the calm to simply please.
Beauty in its stillness,
I cannot witness.
I am finding myself,
No longer sitting atop a shelf.


© written.in.emeralds