Dreams Like This Must Die


A dancer lithe and limber 
Imagines herself with curves. 
Coveting the fleshy mounds 
She dreamt that they were hers. 

Wanting to feel beautiful 
Her reflection tall and plain 
On stage she could be someone else
Forgetting the mundane. 

Surgically implanted,
They never felt quite right. 
Her body once too slender
Became voluptuous overnight. 

Reflection in the mirror 
Now contoured here and there. 
Smiling at herself it seemed 
A perfect love affair. 

But illness struck so quickly 
The dancer lay in bed. 
Doctors were perplexed by this, 
“It must be in your head”. 

Her body worn and withered 
Her youth passing her by. 
Fear her only lover, 
The image was a lie! 

Vanity is emptiness 
She could not now deny; 
This curvature meant death for sure 

Dreams like this must die. 


~ Kristen


Although the events in the book are personal, this isn't my story; it's our story. We've all been there: shamefully sucking-in our tummies to impress others, or using our sexuality to advance our careers because our intelligence or talent come second. Chapters from the book will be released in no chronological order, organically pouring out of me as emotions and memories resurface. Thank you for being here. —Kristen