Give Good Face

by Aaron Blair

Those girls made short work of my face,
using their long nails to strip the skin
away clean from the muscles beneath.
They wore me like a mask,
my pretty words dripping from their lips
in platitudes, poetry they read so many times
they began to think they owned it.

Like a dress, I've gone in and out of fashion.
My suffering has a season,
a time to be worn and then packed away.

Oh, girls, you could never be me
because you have never really known me.
That only happens on the day
when you try to take the face off but you can't.


Posted on 02/20/2017
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 02/20/17 at 11:39 AM

Love the images. Kafkaesque.

Posted by George Hoerner on 02/22/17 at 09:56 PM

Just reading 'Give Good Face' and looking at your picture and I know that no one will know you unless you let them. Good write lady.

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