I Wear Her

Pretty smile, upbeat bounce, this is the mask I wear for the world.

This is the character that performs the waltz, the first act, the round theatre. Intermission falls, the curtains close,

does the act remain the same?

Does the actress fool herself into thinking she really is this performance?

It's pretty for a while, the fancy clothing and bright lights. Being a fool only means you get to take it home with you; showing the mirrors what they want to see; what you long to see.

Does she ever get tired of being so strong all the time?

How can your words stick with me so? I never regret, never look back, yet I find myself yearning. Why did I let myself get in the way of what I so desperately desired?

What I desire doesn't matter. Being strong does.

So I'll adorn the mask once more, the same I wore that night, and tell you everything is OK. I'll tell myself the same. It's not a lie, it's the way I want it all to be, the only person I lie to is myself.

You touch me so much deeper than anyone ever has, and effect my every breath, every pulse, and every blood rush; but she can give you what you need. She can be strong and carry us both, it's so much easier when I'm her. She's better at tuning out the heart and listening to the head.

So I wear her.

I will continue to wear her.