Light masks
The maker
And we extend our forearms
To essential needs and wants

But we get lost on the way.

We push to horizons that fade,
As we cup our faces in their sunsets
And the ground shakes, when we stand the stillest.

Our lives meander around nonsense,
Diving from one exploit to the next,
Exploding our dreams
Into means,
To get to the next stage.
Or we build a stage
And accept applause,
For keeping to the laws
And for bending our shapes
Towards the floors,
Instead of the soft cerise moon.

I wish that we did not fake
To make
And instead built platforms
That can stand changes.

I wish that we built space,
Instead of trying to reach it.

I wish we could match each others energy
To build connections
And affections,
Instead of shaking hands with soft frowns.

Our empathetic contortions are not meant for any others,
No, not even lovers.
They are for you.
The intricacies of freckles and emotions
Are your lotions and potions
For life.

So let’s paint ourselves.
Fill ourselves in.
Fill yourself in.
And protect ourselves from being faceless.

Paint us until we gather form
And our contours can
And not artificially

Model : @dadipoulain / Sylist : @mariewez / Poem : @kinglizy / All images © 2012-2021 Nicolas Blanchadell