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The MaskI watch you every morning
As you put on your mask.
You look at me in the mirror, through the mask,
Replying to my concerns with a smile.
You tell me that everything is fine,
That nothing is wrong.
Then tell me why.
I've seen you without that mask on.
You seem tired.
I've heard you without that mask.
You cry. Not laugh, like you do when it's on.
You voice concerns that don't seem to be answered.
My heart goes out to you.
I know what's wrong whether you're wearing that mask or not.
I feel your pain and sorrow.
I cry when you do.
I ask why you can't be happy,
Why you suffer so much.
I just wish I could help more.
I know the problem is something that I can'
may as well buy another packcollapse, and breathe into the carpet:
sunday mornings are not
for falling apart, but damn
the amphorics, this
is not an atmosphere.
you fell in love like you always
wish you didn't, made all their
smiles replaceable, interchangeable,
fell asleep with shadows and kept
drinking, just letting yourself sleep
with blue pills
and tried not to scream.
(keep this image in your head:
fire and nectarines, a sudden jerk
of realization, inspiration
breaking your neck and leaving you forever
breaking bones is not so different
from breaking hearts - it's all about
the leverage, the angle, the mode
(and at least it wasn't personal;
it can color in your own guilt
for starting lines and never ending
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