Maschera

My painted face becomes another's,
the cloud of perfume clogs my porcelain features.
I can taste the brandy on her breath,
and feel the flush of her cheeks.

Her words come through my face,
her words become mine.
As the people intertwine
so do the identities that define them.

The dancing makes me dizzy,
my head spinning through the motions.
The screeching music fills my ears
making thought impossible.

My ribbon feels loose
and I worry for my fate.
I can visualize my disguised life
spread shattered under foot.

Author's Note

This is a persona poem.