Transparent smiles and fragile paper eyes
adorn a tender beauty, as a tear
of dew upon a rose in cool sunrise.
A sweet yet clear disguise of yearnings near,
secreted 'neath so tenuous a veil
that slight of breeze would surely discompose
and tear and crinkle. Milky shades of pale,
diaphanous, untrue (as truth’s cast shows),
serve only as a means of self deny,
a flimsy shield against a whispered voice
that sighs a threat to air life as a lie
and deliquesce remaining threads of choice...
except the choice to live, as such a breeze
undresses faintly covered dreams with ease.