I don’t understand your face.

Never show your face again.
At least
not the one faux filtered,
caked with hiding,
faked and chiding,
undeciding.
Resting bitch I want.
A tooth or two
showing what might bite.
A premature goodnight.
A masochist’s delight.
Wish I may,
wish I might
coax from you a smile of bright.