"Your cleavage," she said in perfect, gentle love, "was too much."

pimple-faced
late-come Grace,
free me from my
shame and rage.

fallen short
once again
and yet "too much"
still I am.

Be Perfect
Always Try
with each failure
want to die.

long I stare:
mirror-sight--
neutral never--
am I right?

words of others
faults reflect:
do I care for
their respect?

freedom long
have I loved;
perfectionism,
slavery, shrugged.

my response-
ablility
not to let them
look at me?

Your beauty
would I shine--
obscured behind
glory mine.

so stand I
here shamed-faced
angry, ugly
and disgraced.

cover-up
cover tears
have I learned
all these years?

Gratitude:
Great debts paid!
Must submit to
brother's aid.

Quiet works
I should wear.
Humble, modest,
all forbear.

easier when
naked known.
my cleavage sighs,
sleeps alone.

Feminine
so define
allows me not this
humor mine.

I quiver
under yoke:
in conviction
my heart chokes

Holy Ghost:
humble me!
Yield a new eye-
dentity.

Let me see
in every tide
how you'd deck your
gorgeous bride

Let me find
You delight
and to your gifts
not hold tight

Let me see
pimple faced
Let me let go
late-come grace.