Masquerade

You’re growing on me again
with the quiet violence
that only love can offer.

Turning around with an automatic smile,
you’re reaching out in haste
as worlds quietly explode inside me.

I am falling again
through the sunshine and the pain,
trying to wrap myself around you.

I am late to work again,
it took me twenty minutes
to get a taxi today.

This city, with its oppressive heat
and children begging at traffic lights,
is not my home;

yet it hangs in the silence
and draws me in,
closing doors I never knew how to open.

You’re wearing that magenta smile again
which sparks a thousand rebellions inside me;

softly with your fingertip,
you’re  twirling your hair again,
not knowing what strings
you’re pulling at inside me.

You’re ignoring my messages again,
my dinner, like untouched friendships,
slowly turns cold.

When solitude grows,
you text to check on me
without choice or explanation.

My scars take time to heal,
there’s silence between us,
closing doors I will never dare to open.

We may even be at war,
your eyes are softly digging trenches inside me
as worlds quietly explode around us.

Even in laughter,
you’re quietly anchoring my fall.

This summer is refusing to end;
there’s no taxi in sight,
I will be late to work again.

You’re growing on me again
with an oppressive heat
that only this city can offer.