the unmasking

when i'm spoken to too kindly,
it's the unmasking.
i used my sleeve to furiously rub,
traitorous tears away.
and white powder solidified on my arms
(like clay.)
and trying to explain,
i need art to staple me to the ground,
now lies hold together my life.
so when my cheeks flush red
and my eyes run wet,
it's not your well-meaning soliloquy
it's just me.

(who will you be,
at the unmasking?)

Reviews

[fireblossom]

wonderful poem

sad sad heart kiss your image sadly frozen in pictures taken to find some hope