by Maria Crisafulli
Peoples faces become distorted
as their wrath protrudes. But yours, oh no.
The more times I look at you
the more I see the most beautiful person
I know you are.
Underneath your mask, painted on by others
no one sees whats underneath but me, not even you.
As I look at you now, sitting on the front porch
the morning sunlight illuminating every color in your eyes, every dimple, every freckle on your face, every stray hair.
The mask is gone. Illuminated by the sunlight is this person I have grown to love?
It is hot out today. I soak up the warmth,
You open the front door with those hands which fit mine, your mask still on the floor.
I smile. These are the moments and the best part is, that they are not only mine!