The face
It hides the insecure
Lover’s inadequacies
It becomes a mask
Turned to the beloved
The face
It exposes the evil
Game of the cheat
Who sinks in the knife
Even as he smiles
The face
It belies the devotion
Of the brazen sinner
Who’s bought his way
Into atonement
The face
It betrays the bigotry
Of the cruel hypocrite
Who pretends to be
The soul of kindness
The face
It makes us cry as we laugh
And soothes us when we cry
All the while it reveals
Our deepest secrets to us
The face
It reveals to the world
The regret in our mind
Even when we turn mute
From swallowing our pride
The face
It already understands
The acuteness of our anguish
What’s the point of talking
When nothing is left unsaid
Nice Holmes
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