on You.

by valentinestavrou

I decorated you,

with the colour purple

as you wore your face of Love.

I smiled at the sight, something stirred inside

and I searched deep and without fear I wore my face of Love.

But I did more than just that; I wore it well and proudly, I carried it

everywhere, and my face and my face of Love soon became one.

Oblivious to what I used to look like, I kept seeing you in the mirror

and I jumped with joy and foolishness on how my core was you.

Always, everywhere was you.

My dreams surrendered to your figure, my body bowed to yours

my words spoke of you and I madly loved you, you, you.

We danced to a frenzied, devilish music and it was dark and we were drunk on the so-called-love drug and I was blind

for you failed to keep your face of Love on for long.

And then the piano stopped and the lights were on and you smiled but it wasn’t you who smiled; you weren’t possessed no, you weren’t drunk no, you weren’t tired no.

You were you without your face of Love and you were ugly, ugly, UGLY. A horrible boy inside the thin, milk-white body of man.

I searched and searched for your face of Love; had you dropped it while we were laughing? Or maybe while we were dancing? Yes, probably dancing. And I kept on searching and searching, through alcohol and drugs and tears and cheating and fake words, for the face that I so deeply loved,


alas, boy, yours was just a mask.