Shiny, it stands affixed before me
Staring in silence, watching the house
I draw closer, my image mimics
My reflection is weary, is tired
Lines feather out from drooping eyes
In corners, crooked path awaiting tears
Speckles of injury dot high cheeks
Chins hug one another, seek attention
Hair frizzies edge a creased forehead
I inhale, nostrils flaring with intake
This is me. This is me.
Fingers fumble to draws, pull handles
The familiar shuffle of compacts sounds
Colors beckon me to choose them
The foundation of today’s cover up
What mask shall I wear today?
No one wants the truth anymore
So I slather on the fake
Hide the history of disappointments well
cosmetically covering up each new hurt
And pretending all is just fine.
Inspired by the Six Word Fridays meme.