Your face.

Look at that face. What is under that face? I can see you but I don’t understand you.

Look into those eyes. I can see the red lines in those eyes. Are you tired? What are you tired of? I can see the deep and warm brown color that remains hidden within those eyes. I used to think that they were black. I can see your pupils, but you don’t want me to see them. You look away. What have those eyes seen? What do they like seeing? What do they want to see? I can see the window to your soul, but I can’t see your soul. Open those blinds so that the sunshine can come in and caress every corner of the room that lies hidden within.

Look at that brow. I can see the richness of its shape. Maybe other people don’t notice it, but I do. I always do. Why is your brow furrowed? Are you concentrating too much on something or has something displeased you? Are you too lost in a memory that you have forgotten the present moment and have failed to realize it? Are you trying to look angry so that you can keep other people at bay? Or are you trying to look angry so that the right people come your way?

Look at that expression. It looks straight. It doesn’t give anything away. You can’t really be as unreactive as your face shows. What does that expression mean? Is it really a straight face or is it hiding something underneath? It fails to give away any clues as to what is really happening and it’s making me want to know the truth really badly. If you are hiding it, then it makes me want to know about it even more. I’ve got to know.

Look at that mouth. I can see the lines on your lips. They seem to form a pattern that I have never noticed before. I’ll be sure to remember them the next time I look at you.  I can see the way that your lips meet each other and tightly seal themselves, locking everything safely inside. I can see the way that your lower lip slightly protrudes. I see the slight change in shades of the corner of your mouth. I can see your lip quiver a little bit. You are unsure. It’s taken me a while to figure that part out, but I know it now. You can’t hide it anymore.

You are an enigma. What really goes on in that head of yours? What do you really think about when you look at me? More importantly, what do you think about when you are not looking at me? What’s hiding within you? I sense the presence of a beast that is locked in a cage. I can hear the cage rattling. It’s trying to escape. I can hear it wailing. It’s a ferocious beast, but you’re making me feel sorry for it. It can kill me, but in this picture that you paint of it, it seems so innocuous. Why do you keep it locked up? It makes sounds that are almost as loud as your thoughts are.

I can hear your thoughts, they are deafening but I still don’t understand you. I see your face in the mirror, but I still don’t understand you. What are you really?

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About Banda Mann Singh Lamba

I'm here to create art in the form of words. Come, take a dip in my day dreams.
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One Response to Your face.

  1. Rubina says:

    Interesting stuff !

    Liked by 1 person

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