crusted with day

from sun and sweat

it's torn away from teary eyelids

smeared

sticking to skin on palms and fingers

we cower under it

caking over self-induced mistakes and imaginary lines

that threaten perfection.

soaks up the rose in our cheeks

till we are china dolls in glory but

we're running out

of pencils

brushes

wands

masks

ideas.

we need new relief.