The Rigidity of You and Me

The rigidity

of you and me,

once commonplace,

now brutality.

Skin’s still pink,

so you think,

“No harm, no foul.”

My smile, a threadbare cowl.

But layers deep beneath,

down past self-betrayal and false beliefs,

where truth reigns supreme,

are tender patches of glacier blue and clover green.

The flexibility

of you and me,

ripe with acceptance and understanding,

my mental soliloquy.