unharmonized faces

I would like to claw it off my face

as sure as I claw at rumination

of all my mistakes

.

I learned to communicate

by swallowing

suppressing

tamping every real emotion down

behind a neutral mask

.

the art of a perfect smile

to appease my puppeteer.

.

isn’t it ironic that I’m captivated

by the romantic illusion

of a masquerade ball?

of Venetian masks?

.

maybe it’s the impossible escape

where a mask is something donned

for one night of stolen kisses

elation running down the fingertips

rather than one worn

like battle armor

to face the world another day.