Mask #dVerse

I’d like to cheer and say I’m back, but this was painful. I haven’t written creatively in weeks! Ouch! Thanks, Lisa! So nice to see you behind the dVerse bar, and I love the prompt!

Image by kalhh from Pixabay

Mask

It was easier being a clown--
hiding behind makeup
false smile lipstick
joking through pain--
than admit you stank
at living.

And because I laughed
thinking I was supposed to
I never saw the you
behind the mask
even after hearing
the pour of bourbon
before the sun rose high.

You nursed water in a highball
liberally tinged with vodka,
defensively claiming "it's water"
and it’s only now, I feel that pain,
the defense, understanding
some pain's unsurvivable.

But there’s a laugh echoing,
mirthful eyes, a shadow,
an alcohol-fused clown mask
living/dying beyond
the real you,
I never saw,
never will,
the sad 
behind 
the clown smile.

10 thoughts on “Mask #dVerse

  1. I know by experience that that is an impossible task when someone is determined not to let you get to the real them. I suspect even they have never done so.

  2. Oh god, this is absolutely sad. Generally, there’s a reason why people have their walls up so high from everyone. It’s just saddening to me when they find it hard to lower their defenses around those they can trust. You describe this beautifully and solemnly.

  3. Your poem brought tears to my eyes, Sascha. It’s amazing and frightening how well alcoholics hide their addiction, their pain and their real selves. That’s one mask I know I will never wear, an ‘alcohol-fused clown mask’.

  4. kaykuala

    the real you,
    I never saw,
    never will,
    the sad
    behind
    the clown smile

    Come to think of it, yes, Sascha. We don’t really know the real person hidden behind all the garb of laughter..He might not be as happy as he tries to be.

    Hank

  5. Sascha, most happy the prompt inspired you to write <3 And write you did. The heartache of the alcoholic/addict and the heartache of those who love them, both behind masks. Very poignant and resonates within my bones.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.