A Face

Isn’t it bizarre how I’ll

see my reflection ten years later

and desperately crave, miss,

wish, hiss for the face that once was.

 

When right now I pull it a part

I think and yearn for the future

I worry about what’s to come

and picture myself in pictures

captured with my loved ones

new faces I can’t yet place.

 

Right now I try and change

every crease, painting

every

crevice of my character.

 

When myself (future) will give anything to

say another hello to the face

that once was. A face I have now

but will be mine still,

but not.

It will live as a gift I’ll never receive.

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