Mask

Mask reflects sky.
Silvery finish turns light,
However harsh,
Into a soft glow.
Light of window;
Light blue,
Like sky peeks through thin veil of cloud.
Flourescent light:
Soft white-yellow,
Like bark of birch.
Where light does not directly hit,
The mask quietly sparkles grey.
Only half a mask
Only one eye can bee seen
And all that can be seen...
Wall.
Is the mask smiling?
One cannot know...
No mouth.
High cheekbone suggests a grin
But a vacant eye betrays no emotion.
One wonders, Masks are meant to hide!
Surely this mask is intended to conceal one's face.
A half-mask would not do.
Who might wear such a mask?
A phantom, perhaps, but even he was just a man
Who wished to hide deformity from the world.
No, not Phantom. (His was white.)
Suppose...a masquerade.
A party mask of a wealthy young duke;
Simple, yet elegant.
With it, he may convey part of his nature and charm,
And simultaneously wish to retain some mystery
(to appeal to attractive females, no doubt).
Perhaps...it is only a spray-painted thing
used once
damned to lonely existence
to end in a wastebasket.