Poem 8, day 9: The Gambler

The Gambler


I saw the mask again, I’ve not seen it in a while.

A feigned ignorance on my part,

For I know, it never truly leaves.

Stone. Hard. Distant.

Where does it go, the warm body I hold?

Lost are the eyelids I kiss, the freckles I count,

The shared mug replaced,

By vacant words that I nudge with the truth;

Push, kick, spit at until they crumble.

They lie on the floor, these words;

Bare, open, obvious, yet you grasp at the shards

That will continue to cut until it’s too late,

For the mask to ever be removed.


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