Skin’s Disguise

We wear dolls to cover our skin.

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I step outside in the evening—

A quiet movement,

Sliding the day’s doll

Off my bones.

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They feel raw.

Words unsaid.

I must choose which doll

To wear today.

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One for the classroom

Smiling, uncreased;

Sparkling for bright students.

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Another for family;

Patient, listening

Words said on cue.

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Another for friends;

Practiced, polished.

Laughter honed, well-timed.

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But in one doll

Not displayed

Creases ironed

Skin that recalls

Every hurt experienced.

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I do not wear it.

Too bare.

Too raw.

Better left alone,

Well-pressed

Than risk a crowd

With a fearsome gaze.

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But the shell uncovers.

It unfolds.

The costume of skin

A disguise that works

Unnoticed.

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Should you see me next,

Don’t look me in the eye.

My bare skin works best

Unseen.

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But if the light shines right

You might catch the folds.

Carefully pressed.

Beneath it,

Something stirs.

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Do you have Russian dolls? Which do you wear the most?

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