the lines around my eyes
depict the happiness
that once graced my porcelain
now, they’re hollow effigies –
canyons
of symphonies
that no longer echo
their chords
carried by the breeze,
instead absorbed
by melancholies mist
lips still upturn
in a smile-like poise
but lack the grace
of bliss
that hums of ecstasy
euphoria, a distant whisper
that can only be heard
in the depths of lungs
that won’t exhale elation
when sorrow’s smoke suffocates
leaving solitude to swallow the soul
every time i look in the mirror
all I see are the pleasures of the past
and the scars of the present
that leave the lines upon my face
empty…