Blemish
the mirror reflects every wrinkle
every blemish, every mole
looking closer in the light
seeing the pieces whole
though I tried to cover it
cosmetics made it pretty
the truth always returns
at the end of the day
when the powder is washed away
with each breaking crimson dawn
weakness filters in with the sun
after dreams...how real they seemed
cotton candied fantasies --
before they overcome me
before I trip on what's not there
I reckon with the reflection
and the blemishes of what we were
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