11 May 2013
At times I miss who I was so much my face grows warm and tingly.
Lines near my lips and jaw pull away and reach for my heart.
There is a short attempt to see the surrounding world despite the sting in my eyes and
A warm black rain rolls down my cheek and drips from my chin.
Things like that matter.
If I pull down my hat no one will see.
She’s a fraud!
Assuming anyone would look at me,
Would give a shit—
Just some chick sporting the mask of a tragedian…
I don’t own a mask.