The wrinkles under his eyes
spell experience and trust
as his overworked lips form the words
let yourself be raw
but even then i paint.
I paint over the bruise on my cheek
that everyone looks at but nobody sees
I paint my words and you are fooled
with a single lie that
I paint my body with a sculpted stomach
and toned arms
To hide the hate it took to find my ribs
I paint my face.
We all paint our faces.
An angry fist breaks the mirror because
a broken mosaic of
is more satisfactory
and we shout out imperfections to the world because
has a sofer bite than
but how can you really see yourself
in a mirror broken
by the lies you tell it?
and so my soul may refuse to break
and my heart will no longer break
at shallow statement
This is my redemption.