The Image We See poetry by Ashley Pentycofe

The Image I see

I stand here in front of the mirror staring

Judging, measuring, cruel and uncaring

Dressed up for my date

Criticizing my every imperfection

My face covered with hate

Why can I be perfect?

My body is all a wreck

Bra fits too tight

Nose a little too wide

I have to wear glasses help my sight

Ugh! Adjust my shirt with a sigh

Then there’s the dreaded knock at the door!

I step back and eye myself once more

Still unhappy with my figure and feeling hopeless

Maybe this date is totally bogus

Slowly I open the door

He takes one look and his jaw hits the floor

I smile and think “Maybe he’s a keeper”

And he’s better looking than that last cheater!

Ashley Pentycofe 04/18/2010