The Mask

Your face was within,
I breathe
the air you exhaled,
feel where your lips touched,
kiss you goodbye.
False eyes watch
through curtains of plaster,
sleep, dance, cry,
undress in privacy
where no one is ashamed,
all we remember is our infancy.
Frightening,
that replication of your skull,
the smell of paint
bleeds into my magic.
Teeth gritting behind eyes,
waiting for me to admit
we are no longer children.
I run my hand down your false face
covering mine,
trying to feel
the warmth of your flesh.
Cold bites fingers,
the mask rolls away,
your ancient breath is stale,
stagnant,
lingering in youth.

– Intuitive Ginger

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