Poetry · Writing

Reading Faces

her eyes told it all-
black rings
one for each month.
she doesn’t count the one on her finger
he claims to wash the war paint away
but it won’t come off her eyes.
he doesn’t know
every time he picks up the rag
he’ll only add another ring
i believe- he means well
but he could never begin
to understand
what it is to have her face.

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