Member Poem

He likes the way I laugh,
for the sounds that I make
are too hideous, hard to pretend.
I just throw back my head,
and lunge out the emotion
in a shrill voice like a kid.
He likes to see how the corners
of my eyes crinkle when I smile,
three little lines called crow’s feet.
He likes to see my cheeks stretch wide,
glowing with red spots and glee,
faint dimples he won’t miss.
But would he bear to see me cry,
tears mixed with mascara,
flowing out of my wretched eyes?
Would he caress the hairs of my head?
When I dip my face low, ashamed
to look at him and tell him it hurts?
Would he swipe his thumb over,
the upturned frown of my lips
till they disappear?
Should I tell him I’m a blend,
of two lives in one body?
A split irreparable personality
he has to accept, has to let in?
or should I keep it a secret?
pop in some pills
and bury it all within?