That Woman

She haunts me at times

Those weary eyes and sad smile

When the facade fades

I cannot gaze long

Fearful of her influence

Leery of her ills

Mocking me, she stares

Eye to eye, she locks me in

My mirror tells all

Facade


flawless illusion
reality intervenes
eroded facade


behind the bright mask
uncovered with a flourish
truth cloaked alibis



one fine victory
a fallacious feast for eyes
gives what isn’t seen

The word “facade” is another I ploddingly mispronounced for many years. Until I was 16 or so I thought it was /fu•kāde/. I’ll tackle “docile” next.

Peace, people!