They spread theirs
like scissors
in every photograph
and pose
not once
does does it cross
their minds
that the stick like stalks
holding up their
narrow
hips
have
so much
power.
Scrolling - it is the first thing
we notice
and our
hearts break into
a hollow song
we pine,
yearn,
cry
for ourselves
to occupy
so little room
but have
such immense
reach.
They
then
have the
sheer audacity
to shake
what they
don't have.
To try and
scintillate
the way
we
do.
At the end
we
are
left
empty.
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