Typed Music


I suppose these are just little pieces of me, wrapped up in words.

The forgotten melodies of my mind.


8. Masked

Each morning
You add another layer to your mask,
Eat another grain of eyebrow,
Bruise the fringes of your lids a little darker
Are you so afraid of your beauty
That it must be swaddled?
You singe your scalp,
And dye your lips
So that colours crumb in the creases.
Sometimes I wonder;
Do you even recognise your reflection?

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