I’ll never understand you, she said,
I’ll never understand why you must always pretend,
Why you must always wear that silly mask,
Even at dinner,
Even in bed.
Don’t be angry, he told her,
It’s just a harmless peccadillo,
And anyway, I don’t wear the same one all the time.
No you don’t, she said, visibly confused,
The one you’re wearing at the moment is a sombre one,
But the one you wore this morning, less than an hour ago,
That was a horrible one,
You know how I hate it,
You know how it frightens me,
Yet you continue to wear it everyday.
I’m sorry, he told her, don’t be upset,
You know how much it distresses me to see you so,
You know how much I love you.
If that is true, she said,
And if you do truly love me.
Then just this once you’d take that mask off
And let me see what you really look like.
All right, he told her, for he really did love her,
And he really didn’t want to hurt her.
He turned around, removed the mask, and stood holding it in his hand;
Here, he said, look.
But you haven’t removed it, she said.
Yes I have, look, I have it here.
And he held it up for her to see.
Her eyes switched from his face to his hand,
From his hand to his face,
From his face to his hand,
Then back to his face again.
But I...I d-don’t understand, she stammered.
Neither do I, my love, he said, neither do I.
Back To Poetry Index