Nothing

She has the complexion of God
mapping out the stars on the mirror
moving mountain ranges and cuts
that catch her as she falls.

She fills her empty world
with the promise of happiness
surrounded by monkeys with blank stares
they dress her up to play pretend
and make her a celebrity.

My beautiful statue of faith
you stand tall after every crash
I wish you were clean
I wish you were fake
I wish the stars you made glisten
would blind you
and lose your way
so I can lead you
past split-ends and cracked teeth
a blue smile and transparent attention
and cure you from your chimera,
strip you from queen
and dress you as my God
as the cross I wear.

She is a victim of Eve,
her shattered reflection shaded red
from where her mountain fell.