Masking It

By Hope Simpson

Three layers of polyester veil my lips,

A seal to stop the spread of

My infectious breath –

I asphyxiate,

(Quietly)

In attempt to supress

The rising fever that pollutes within.

I drink detergent each day

To sanitise inside,

Sterilising all cells -

And tranquilising my mind.

I dissect myself sometimes,

To diagnose what is wrong,

With a scalpel and mirror,

But I am empty and gone.

I stitch up my wounds

At first tidily and neat

But it becomes messier

And, no longer discrete.

I wish there was a vaccine

To eradicate this pain,

To immunise from loneliness

And make me feel again -

But I take off the mask which used to conceal,

And breathe in fresh air to let myself heal.

ST.ART does not own the rights to any images used in this article.