“Masked”
I’ve been waiting
with this leather plated mask
and I’m afraid to over-step
the boundaries of its shadow
though it seems to have
its way with you
though I tried to let it go
my hand is still unsteady
waiting for you to reply
to a question I haven’t asked yet
Do I really think this will get me
anywhere?
By pretending I am what I’m not
Do I really think it would
make me change
into someone I’d be prouder of?
As if that exists at all
because perfection is only
a perception
based on some imperfect view
if there was such a thing as perfection
I wouldn’t be in love with you.