Blind

You think my bones are made of cotton and the pattern of my skin only loosely woven together by shaky hands. The words that drip out of my mouth and seep under your skin mean less to you than your false imagination of what you are to me. Bright skies, dropping suns, galloping in all your spurious fortitude. Rescue me oh gallant one! I am but a delicate female waiting to be saved from my dependency on the love of a man. Save me from my drunken self, drunk with love and beaten down by possibility of losing you. It is only you, in all your masculine glory, that will fill me up with worth and mark me with validation. Validate the tiny spiders that scurry through my veins, tell them they are beautiful and have no one to blame. Mark my words dear Saviour, dear rescuer of the effete monarchies of the goddess, you are no longer the master of my destiny, the conductor of this orchestra. Your words only run alongside mine, often getting left behind. Don't save me, don't even try. My armour is steadfast, my skin like leather. You don't see this because you  are blind. Blind to see that you are like me.