A poem by Jazmin Spillan
I’ve stared at this blank screen, for a good
It went black.
I’m still not sure what it is, I have
I can tell you, though,
She can be startling when, I
Least expect it.
Maybe it's the way my eyes aren’t looking, for
Perhaps it’s the way Her smile, kind of,
And for once,
She’s not trying.
It could be the way I look at Her and think,
She should be happy with Herself.
I suppose I’ve never really seen,
My own face.
Only reflections; mirrors,
Usually, when I look for Her,
Disappointment chokes me.
Today, I caught a glimpse,
She was precious,
Staring back me with Her hopeful flame,
Hidden behind Her mascara,
Her masked cara.
On Her face,
cracked foundation lied,
The most pure of surfaces.
For once, I was happy with Her.
With her complexion, and her mismatched lips.
I smiled at her.
She watched me,
Begging for approval.
I nodded, and closed my computer screen.