The storm behind your eyes

I watch your self-portrait
You shine bright in the backlight
Faintly smiling, you pose
Beautiful eyes, beautiful mouth, beautiful nose
The piece flaunts everything we know and see
Yet hides everything you know and see
I feel obliged to pay you a compliment
Only for you to act surprised at what I meant
You must be an artist or maybe your ego
I never remember you being this beautiful
But isn't that how we art?
Materially present even in the past
Yet in here, I feel that's the trouble
It ignores yesterday where you'd cry
and ask to cuddle...
There's a tone missing, it's too happy
It's missing a stroke of blue,
it ignores all the real things that happened.

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