Behind the Curtain

For anandosen's "Raught-Caught" challenge

You charm the light
  with every click.
You own the catwalk
  with every step.
You steal eyes
  with every glance,
but it is a deserted glance
from behind the curtain.

Your world is dirty, and not Hefner dirty,
but stained with shoe prints:
of step-stool giants with scarves and stripes,
who look over you and down at you
when it suits the season,
and high-heel indentations,
not quite sharp enough to pierce the skin
but leave behind small scars just the same.
High-hell is where you live
and the tenants hate new neighbors.

Your tears run cold,
but nobody notices the frostbite on your cheeks,
not even you.
Foundation and blush will wash away the remnants
of yesterday's burn marks,
and you always have a smile on tap,
or a sultry sizzle as the shoot demands.

Your willow frame weeps of
punished diet, underfunded but overrated.
Cheeseburgers are for the weak, grass is for cows,
there must be some foliage for frail perfection.
Seeds are for the birds but you'll take them at a pinch.
You look beautiful,
darling.

Now, go!  Walk straight, walk tall.
Camera flashes want to shower you,
the masses want to bathe in your body
and bask in the garments that hang from you so well.
Turn your back on them,
wipe that disdain off your face
as you disappear behind the curtain.

By DB (07/12/2011)