Bits of flesh flaking away—becoming bits of ash falling at my feet—becoming gobs of flesh beneath my nails....
I peeled off my face today. To make myself more presentable to the world. The smile I’ve been carrying around as of late has been sluicing into mushy mush somewhere below my chin—eyebrows absent—frown lines, marks of laughter—gone. A face void of expression. A face that had lost its human. The surface of a potato tells more than what’s been propped on my neck. The face of the moon—enormously so—with a thousand eyes, a thousand mouths—mine, not one. Not one.
This morning I awoke to a single tendril of hair extending from the top of my head, slinking down—that’s where I started picking—where the tendril rested, where my eyes had been. Bits of flesh flaking away—becoming bits of ash falling to my feet—becoming gobs of flesh beneath my nails. Peeling becoming grating—new lines forming—where a smile and slope of a nose had been. I made new ones—a new face for you and the world to see. This new carving of eyes so bright and full of wonder, a nose so eager, cheeks so sincere, with a mouth full and ready to spill—spill kisses, laughter and words.
Come closer so this new face can greet you and tell you all of the things—all the things you’ve wanted to hear—all the things you’ve wanted to feel. It will be my best one yet. As I stand atop the mounds at my feet, this face will swallow you whole.
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