Like a wounded beast I wander through this year,
half blind with pain and anger.
But on the outside I wear my mask, the smiley, witty one;
designed years ago to let everyone know that I was fine.... just fine.

But on some days I can't hold the painted face up.
It drops, clanking to the ground....... such a heavy burden
Lying there, it looks up at me like a learing, taunting clown, screaming:
"I'M FINE! I'M FINE! I'M FINE!"

This date, this anniversary of sorts,
came crashing in on me this morning as I typed it out on an email:
November 17, 2000.... the tears and memories came welling up.... six months.
(Tears, the WD-40 of emotional gridlock, loosen masks easily).

I will stumble through this day, dropping and picking up my mask....
frozen smiles and flowing tears working against each other.
The night, that night, burns in my mind's eye today like an old rerun seen one too many times
Your last words, "Night night!," ringing like a Litany response to each flash back.

I move on through this day
through each day.....
Knowing that the "anniversaries" will come and go....
Hot tears, fallen masks, and your sweet face, shining through the darkness.