Your silence is deafeningly loud.
A screeching, violent sound
A bloodcurdling shrill
That is seen but not heard.
Your footsteps, light and airy,
A feather against the softest skin,
Leave behind a heavy print
of bones and steel.
The costume you wear is torn.
Sheaths of truth surface momentarily
Only to sink back in
your carefully crafted cloak of deceit.
Your mask is tattooed on.
A beautiful mirage of sand and honey.
Its clear like colorless eyes
Sharper than freshly pricked skin.