Mask

Open the door. Walk slowly. Put on your mask. Hold their hand. A sorry. A lie for what happened 54 minutes ago beyond that white door.  Stop thinking . put on your mask. Hold their hand. Someone is waiting downstairs. Someone you hope will never know. Someone you know will never forgive. Someone . Someone. Same one.  Walk slowly. Put on your mask. hold their hand.  Stop .  Only you could hear the ringing in your ears. The walls have eyes. Pray they remain blind. Talk to them now. Let go of that hand. It stings. You hurt. Say the words . Cover them with sweet powdered lies. They need to hear it. You don't. Nevertheless. Speak. You're not in confession box. Hear their thanks. Say goodbye. Swallow your guilt.  Clear your throat, practice your smile. Rehearse your blame.