The
Face Behind The Painted Face
By Oscar S. Cisneros
I see you there behind your painted face, beneath your
tight-laced corset and black and white checkered stockings.
You in all your manufactured mystique with the brave and
painted face you put forth to the world. There is some
truth in your fiction for so many girls are too shy too
timid to express themselves in the simple way with which
you say -- with one look -- "here I am." But what lies
beyond that painted face of yours, when the photographers
are gone, when the reception is over, when the masquerade
draws to a close? I see you rising in the morning with
sleep still in your eyes, with mascara smeared, with the
discomfort of the too harsh too early sun upon your face
and I cannot decide which of you I love more, she of the
painted perfection or the girl and her delightful imperfection.
I cherish you as you and respect your right to adorn yourself
as you see fit, to construct an image of yourself as angelic
or as depraved as that darkened little heart of your desires.
But when playtime is over, show me the face behind the
painted face, and I will show you which face I love the
most.
