“A mask tells us more than a face.”
― Oscar Wilde
—
piece
by
piece
trickling
down
my face
plucked
from
their roots
to be blown
into the air
carrying my wishes
don’t touch your eyebrows
or your thin hair won’t grow back
stolen tweezers
indulging secretly
in expelling the faint threads
the sting
brings tears
to wash away the frown
from my eyes
there,
i look
happy
now
you have nice eyebrows
they should be on display
black brow pencil
filling the peaking skin
do i look like a boy?
don’t go too high with the arch
you might look angry
how do i decide
the pattern of
this voluntary shedding
how do i decide
what i feel?
my face
anchored in brows
from arches
to the tipping point of
fading
my face
embraced in
dancing parenthesis of
black fields
my face
only speaks in between
and
discarded words
—
why do you think eyebrows are deemed so important?
—
Love this poem.
Thank you x
Love this! Especially the last stanza. It brings everything together nicely.
Thank you, I’m glad you liked it
No problem!
I don’t know.
yea, me neither!
Nice flow and cohesiveness to this.
Thank you for reading x