but I thought I had a face.

I thought I had one.
I thought you saw it.

I thought that’s what
you came here for;
that’s why you stayed

because maybe, for once,
you saw my face
you lifted the veil and
learned to say my name and
make me laugh

or maybe, perhaps,
that you liked the color of
my eyes, the deep green,
the greys, the piercing
blue hues

the taste of red lips,
colored with stolen wine
and my flushed cheeks
warm against your shoulder blades

the time we spent together,
rare moments stolen
from the universe
came rushing back at me one night
flew right into my face
and made me bleed and scream
the room drowned deep in red;
never recovered; never fully did;
never forgot what you said
or didn’t say; what I’d always
taken from your eyes;
what I’d taken for granted

because I realize that you lied.
I looked into your eyes;
saw the chasm where my
face should be

I tried to touch it,
felt nothing but air

nothing at all to grasp,
to gaze at,
to kiss, to love.
nothing but air and a chasm

and that night I crumbled
because I am faceless,
nameless, numb.
I am nothing but a chasm.