Blue Face

Hunched over the

bed,

blue pastel in

hand, consumed

by a feeling

that doesn’t feel

like my own.

Something foreign

that is within

me, chewing at me,

compelling me

to draw a

swirled face,

and my pastel

touches the

paper spinning.

And this blue face

sits up against

the wall

for days,

staring at me,

telling me

“I am part of you.”

And I have to

cover it up,

turn it into

something new.

And when I do,

nothings changed.

I don’t like it,

I hate it.

I tell myself

it was better

before.

And as I walk away

from the ripped

pieces of paper

laying in the

recycling bin,

I can hear that

swirling blue face,

underneath the layers,

call to me

“You’re not

good enough”

 

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2 thoughts on “Blue Face

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