My Specimen, My Muse
Ava Rice
My delicate fingers run their gaze over freshly showered skin
The water from my undried hair drips down my back
I feel the solid drops break into a stream while they land
As if they are to welcomingly embrace every part of me.
The glass mirror I stare into is hazy with steam
Except the space I wiped with my gentle hand to create a window with.
A specimen with piercing brown eyes and pink lips
Stares at me through this messy window.
I examine the specimen with my hands and inch closer to the mirror.
Observing every feature I begin to smile and pose
Pretending these are photos to be taken and hung up on a lover's wall.
Perhaps this lover in my mind has always been a male
Someone smart and handsome, who sees me as their muse
But as I gaze at my own reflection, my own specimen
I cannot help but grin at the way I look so beautiful.
I think that this time these photos will be on my wall.
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