It was the kind of occasion
that called for handshakes.
The smile you pasted upon
your perfectly powdered,
rouged and lipsticked face,
made me blink in disbelief.
Why would you pretend?
When your soul was melting
and dripping through the gaps
in your tightly woven fingers.
Some things are best left unsaid,
but not this, no, please, not this.
Petals, perfume, claustrophobia,
no space, the elephant in the room
is using up all of the oxygen.
Polite chatter covers the fissures
opening up in the solid ground
beneath our slick stilettoed heels.
You just make it to the exit door,
moments before your slipping mask
says everything that you won't.
I have transferred this over from my Panopticulated blog.
It was written using the prompt words - Blink, Kind, Occasion.
Shared with The Poetry Pantry