Les Fenêtres de L’âme

Nineteenth century French poets never come right out with things
But rather mask everything with figurative language and a whole lot of symbolism.
Eyes are not eyes,
But rather “les fenêtres de l’âme”
The windows of the soul.
They show the truth
And that’s how I knew your smile was a fake one
And, no, you’re not okay
Because your face lights up but your eyes still frown
I can see your desperation
They reveal your sorrow
And I know those rosy red cheeks pinched with dimples
That appear with the arch of your smile
Were just stained with tears
Which, of course, you wiped away with a stroke of your hand,
(As if wiping away misery is that easy)
And replaced with blush and foundation
To ease the attempt at deception.
So you can swear that you’re fine all you want,
I won’t say anything,
But I’ll be here with open arms
For when you get tired of lying


About savannahlyn

I write to articulate what my tongue cannot
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