Perception

When whispered breaths are laid to rest, and a gentle narcotic warm lulls me, I will lay my back against hardened earth and strip away the facade, this mask, my ingratiating shroud of beautiful, so as to bathe in the compassion of the moon, pale and unabashed. Only then will the deepest depths of me avow the ghost. Only then will this be called love, and only then will my lull