Faceless Woman
Yesterday, before the week began, you showed up in my presence.
I should've been happy—joy should have found its way erupting in my being with songs of jubilee, singing "Oh Happy Day" when the day came where your face met with my own. I should've felt every muscle twinge and pop as a grin shifted its way across my cheeks, rosy; filled with the exuberance of knowing your arrival was wanted. My heart should have leapt with excitement; there should have been no room for disappointment, for I could have felt warmth. If my eyes weren't so deceiving, I would have noticed that my pupils grew bigger covering my mahogeny irises to see you clearly.
—I should have felt that...
But I didn't. When I looked at you, I saw absolutely nothing. Your mouth was nothing but a gaping hole in the middle of your face, eyes sunken and desperate for refreshment. Everyone in the room scrambled to bow to you! When I could not! For my feet would not move, and my mouth became dry. The words I wished to say stuck in my throat; a thick jello that slid with my saliva along the insides of my esophagus. For a moment I thought I should gather my wits. Though I was sound, sane—my mind knew. I knew.
A blank expression washed upon your figure. Bleak, lifeless, and grey. Oh, faceless woman, that haunts me in my dreams.
Why is it that I wish so much to know who you are? Though I know your being causes nothing but shame. Hurt, and agony. Don't come near me any longer. Everything bends to your will, but me, I am not mad. Insane in your tasteless embrace.
Leave me be.