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The Man Behind the Mask
July 28, 2014
We were dancing around,
Every foot, every bound.
Laughing we were,
As people entered the blur.
Her hips skirted left,
As her lips flirted deft.
She was smiling and beguiling.
These things marked the beginning of the trance.
The ending of our dance.
Her mask began to crumble,
And seeing her true face surely made me stumble.
Her grace and her flawlessness was all a display.
That mask truly did betray.
Behind my mask there is a man who is broken.
To remove it, I would be left in pieces.
Pieces as distorted as your smile with its remorseless creases.
© Rebecca Y., Los Angeles, CA
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