Make Muse

For the young womxn who wants to make a change.

You Are a Siren

You Are a Siren


A dissociative fog of warmth

invited me in



I took your invitation

because you were beautiful, vulnerable –

an imitation of Botticelli’s Venus.


Degas’ ballerinas twirled the tips of your blonde hair

and chevreuils skied down your nose

as pheasants picked at your fine eyes.


Were those the animals you used to kill?

I can hardly remember now,

you’ve tainted my memory with unease.


Yet I remember the lure of the sunflowers,

the way the butterflies sat on them

and how you traced their full-figures across my cheeks.


The soft murmur of your fuchsia nails

kindled my nerves and put me to sleep –

c’etait les guilis-guilis.


I adored them as I adored you.

But now you no longer know how to

administer them or me.


You struggle to keep me filed

under the weight of your crystal paperweight

which stifles my loving breadth (or is it breath)?


I am sharp, rough at the edges

I am crisp, sour and tasty

I can fee and make you feel.


But my growing height

makes it difficult to sea past

the faults of your being.


I have to remember that you also are

a mortal, a human being.

You are not a shiny, scaly kaleidoscope.


For so long I believed you were –

the neon flashes that poured out of you

prevented me from seeing right in front of me.


Now I know –

The truth, the world, myself


And I can see that you were wrong

about who I was…who I am?

I’m not really sure


For I have morphed into you

or have I?


They all say we are carbon copies

of one another –


I don’t know if we are


Author: Tarina Touret

One Woman's Exposé on the French Fashion World

One Woman's Exposé on the French Fashion World

Cinenova: The Preservation of Feminist History

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