Nameless

I see you. And your everything, but nothing at all.
Your Parisian flair & your hair down to there
Your supple lips and your tiny hips
...Tease me
I want to be like you. Not you you
But the you that is shiny and brand new on the cover.
With your waif delicacy entangled in diamonds and glamour
And your legions of fans that all flock and clamor
To see you.
Not the you that is like me
Trivial, broken and bashful
Bloating with insecurity and add a handful
Of anxieties.
Sometimes I feel nameless.
No, not that you.
I want the you that is pampered and adored by millions.
They love you and seek you out
Listen to you every word and stay true and devout
Take pictures with zoom lenses
Through your walls, high gates and fences.
Whatever you wear flies off the shelves
People want what they see on you on themselves.
Your waif entangled in pop and disaster
Is this the you that I’m after?
Your that girl. Your her. Quintessential ‘it’.
But you’re nothing at all. You’re nameless.
Im no it girl, no girl like you. But it turns out
…I have a name.