I wear the mask
of my lover's lover.
He gave it to me,
offhandedly, without thought.
I came to need it.
Wearing it only, at first,
when we were together.
feeding our bodies with fantasy.
Legs out running around,
his neck of the woods.
Now, I keep it close around
my own neck, for safe keeping.
I pull it on
when I go to the store,
so I can buy my grieving body
something new.
People desire to think
this is who I truly am.
What a lovely mask, what a
lovely name, you're so... sweet...
Thank you, I say.
I take it down only
with those that know me, their eyes
shouting this mask is not my skin.
How sad. I wonder how
this mask will bleed
into other parts of me? I wonder.
How long will I continue to bleed?
