i try to wash off these layers…
but the mask that I concocted
has set in too well.
and what once was
fantasy
emblazoned itself
across my face as if reality—
what once was and what once is
minutely differ
it’s in the details, the minor workings
change A with B,
this me with that me and
that laugh with a smile.
the accidental touch to an
actual caress.
Those clueless smiles to
fiery smiles. It’s an interchanging
of variables.
A non-existant formula
for intermittent catastrophe.
Unbeknownst tragedy.
a deceptively natural mask she wore,
except that when she smiled—the smile
never fully materialized in her being.
it got lost someway, somewhere along the way
as it traversed through,
vying for those receptive outcomes
but unable to fully formulate its essence
it woefully fizzled.
others passed it off for tiredness—
which suited her purpose
quite perfectly
