Speck

Over my heart hovers a lens
Backwards over my heart.
This makes the big things
Smaller
And the littlest ones
So tiny now.

You see,
It hurts.
To crane my neck and look back
Back to my heart.
And I prefer it this way
So much easier,
Comfortable
Looking at yours.

Yours is darker, bigger
Nasty
Putrid.
My lens tells me
I am better,
Not-quite-so-nasty,
Certainly a bit more fragrant.

Now if you will just listen, I can fix you
I can help you be good like me.