Some people might think my expression is wrong a bad direction, a sinful or self-righteous act. Don’t people see something beautiful, not just a person who can be beautiful even pretty but also a person who wants to look it. Like little pink flowers drawn in an incomparable delicate pure white mosaic but sometimes fragile that calms one nerve. My mosaic lifted up day to day through quiet prayers slowly being answered.
Maybe I should have kept it a secret, something not revealed hidden, a reflection both mental and physical, never touched or known. Keeping a fabricated half-truth to keep everyone content. A reality that everyone wants to believe and see, a lie, something to be comfortable with. A broken mosaic held only by a light and close connections.
I have kept myself hidden, daily, memories of a lifetime buried, withering away day to day. Knowing to be transparent would lead to hurt, pain, and rejection. A step taken without regret, having an existence that is true. Knowing society norms, standards, and inclinations to false realities fits in but being something genuine, is right.
I’m a pink rose masked behind soft candlelight, revealing one through soft words.