THE MASK Eve’s perfect hair —was my first tip off. Framing that constant, studied smile. The plucked perfection of her eyebrow Foreshadows something dark inside. Behind those tinted contact lenses, Eve guards a heart that never fell, And counts her bloodless, untold victories, With each “Dear John” under her spell. Living out other people’s fantasies. Eve’s become THE MASK she falsified. While all the dreams her own heart needs to reach, They turn so bitter as they die. That pout on Eve’s lips says so much for her. She never speaks of what’s inside. Her conversation is so finely tuned To add a gloss to her disguise. Eve’s become The Mask she falsified.
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