Dull Splendor

She shines bright against my dull splendor.
What is so special about a girl
who wears her scars on her sleeves?
I can no longer bare my facade masterfully,
A mask crafted with beguiling care
and fashioned to fit and grow
around a changing plane–
it slips every time he sighs your name.
The way his eyes follow your
measured steps and flirty smile,
the mask skips
in tune, as if tested by a chime–
When he chooses you once again.

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