we wear these masks
of ice
carved by chainsaws
icy faced friends, foes and strangers engraving every miserable wrinkle with lumberjack precision
but together, you and I
take them off
anxious darting eyes swimming out in the open waters
fearing the chainsaws will come and find our faces
bare and warm
we hide in bed, pulling the covers over our heads
the world can’t find us
There
no chainsaws to shape our faces, just warm gentle fingers
tracing each other
our bodies braille
trying to discover what’s inside
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