The PAIN in Perfection

Staring at her reflection
She peered into the mirror
Sighing she looked away
Who was that person she wondered
Frail and fragile, all hope shattered
What happened to her
Drawing across her skin she remembered
As red pooled around her feet she let her thoughts reign free
It wasn't always like this
He never once used his fist
She was like porcelain to him
He worshipped her n excused her excesses
He was an artist
She was his muse, hauntingly beautiful he used to say
Too fragile for pain he reiterated
Her beauty he recreated on canvas upon canvas
But she knew better than that
She knew she wasn't worthy of his art
But she ignored the truth and kept up the facade
As she began to slip up more and more
Jim couldn't reconcile her to perfection anymore
And so she became the canvass
He just wanted his perfect beauty back
But she couldn't pretend forever
He needed a flawless statue to worship
She loved the admiration and praises
So she stayed
He didn't understand, he was slowly loosing his mind
"She was perfect", she just needed a little motivation from his hands
Cleaning up after his daily art session on her skin
She covered the stains that wouldn't come off
Striving to attain what they both needed to survive
But it was elusive
The more they struggled to grasp it
the more pain was inflicted
They were victims of the worst kind of illusion
Completely blind to the never ending pain in the quest for perfection.