Her Face

Sometimes I let my mistakes get the best of me. I let them define who I am to the point where I replay my daily mishaps over and over in my head. I find that showering offers me some odd kind of solace. At night, it’s a chance to erase my day. To let go of what I did wrong and try to find peace within myself. Of course, this tactic doesn’t always work ( it’s also really just a waste of water) and I’m left feeling, well, ashamed. That’s the energy I channeled into today’s poetry topic about faces and below is the picture I felt best illustrated those feelings. Even when it’s overcast out, there’s always that one moment when the sun shines through the clouds and reminds me that I don’t have to give up on myself.

Photo By: Pooeelouis

Ocean Beach, San Francisco

Her face:

Soft skin scrubbed raw,

The scolding water blends with my salty tears.

Another day I tried to burn.

Could five more seconds erase my sins?

Could ten more extinguish my fears?

Steam soaked mirror.

Blurry reflection, but the shame you can trace.

For now she can’t see me.

For now I can hide.

I tried so hard not to be her,

The girl with my face.

-N.B.

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