I wish I was a painting

Sometimes I stare at pictures of those lovely women lost in time with their perfectly delicate curls complementing their face. Their eyelashes are always so natural and delicate. They wear ruffles that flow perfectly at the seam complementing their small waist. In every picture or painting you see of them they always look so surreal and majestic. I love their purity and calmness as if no problem could hurt them. It’s as if their beauty is a weapon of its own cutting into people’s hearts and melting them. They always speak so softly and serenely. Lace, dresses, pastels, parasols, gardens, and flowers. They’re the living spring, the closest beauty to an angel. Sometimes I wonder where that beauty has gone or if it ever really existed in the first place. Afterall, pictures can always be so deceiving of how a person truly is. 

I wish I could be a perfect painting. I want to be every beautiful color on that paper and I want to look at peace for once in my life. Maybe if I was a painting I could stop thinking so much. All I’d do is get admired and eventually discarded. It doesn’t sound like much but I could be captured in any moment or memory forever. Freeze time in my most perfect and happy self. It sounds like the most suffocating dream. I guess it shows how much I wish I was perfect and how badly I wish I could stay happy. 

Tie me up in lace and put flowers in my eyes. Use my body as a vase and let white roses turn red from my blood. I want to be consumed in something beautiful. 

Beauty

Admiration

Adoration 

Yearn

I yearn for peace from peaceful things.

I yearn for peace from pain.

Whether you dressed me up or dressed a corpse all I want is to be free. Free like those women in paintings who have been swinging on the same swing in their most beautiful dress and flowing hair for hundreds of years. How envious I am of them. They just smile and when their painting is thrown out they die as their most beautiful self. It’s not fair. I have to live through this confusion and fog. Why couldn’t I be the beautiful woman wearing pearls and white gloves.