When you fall in love with a mask

When you fall in love with a mask, you have no idea it’s a mask. You don’t see the disguise, the stage, the ropes, you believe, naively, in the reality of that mask, in her good intentions, in her sweet promises. You kiss those painted, two-faced lips like you are thirsty and they are a purity spring. You hug that strong body like you are groggy and his arms are your only reliable fulcrum. You play in that rebel hair with those shaking hands of yours like a soulful child who just received his first toy ever. You are so fascinated by the perfect contours of the mask that you only see the light in her eyes, no shadows, no doubtful intentions. You drink the love directly from that mask’s smiling mouth and you never perceive the fatal poison in your drink. But the mask plays you, right from the start. She only uses you to fill her unbounded desire for greatness. The mask needs attention, devotion, loyalty, your love for her is just a proof that her power of seduction is still working. And silly you if you dare to expect the love to be mutual, ‘cause a puppet like you it’s never equal to her owner.

But it’s never too late, you know, to cut the ropes and set you free. Screw that lying, wicked mask. You deserve more than being played. You deserve real love, not cheap substitutes. So leave, go on your way and never settle for less than someone who’s not his mask.

Cause when you fall in love with a mask, your soul is slowly being destroyed piece by piece and if you don’t pay attention, you may become an object of décor in a play that is your own love life.

mask

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