More Than You Will Ever Know

These glasses make my eyes itch,

As they adjust to the new lenses through which they see

When I close them,

My eyelashes resist their re-opening.

My hair is messy and uncomfortable,

Damp at the nape from warm sweat

It curls in every direction but the one I want – it hangs

In curving whorls in front of my eyes.

Oh, how I want to chop it off

The hands which tuck stray frizz back

Behind my ears, bring memories of crooked

Chipped nails.

Of other hands which press against my own,

Large and warm and calloused.

Of dainty fingers that move with dainty flicks of wrists

– Not mine, they could never be –

Oh, sometimes how I wish,

I could just slip off a body like a mask;

Choose a new one every day

In accordance of my mood.

I wish this

More than you will ever know

 

I was going through my drafts and came across this, which was titled and sounded like it might contain something interesting. Instead, I got a blank page, with the title. So I decided to write a poem for it. I’m not quite sure about what came out, but I think it kind of suits its name.

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