It's not a macho thing.
It's not a Republican choice.
He's not worried
We won't hear his voice.
He just can't wear a mask,
It's not because of manly fears;
It's just Putin
Likes to hold
**** lickers by their ears.

"If everyone around you is forced into the Bubble,
Then you don't need to wear a mask."
                                                           D. Trump

Life presents you with many gifts.
Some may be opportunities,
Some may be material things.
My favorite gift is the people in my life,
Especially her.

Who is she?

She is a fierce dark angel who is not afraid to fight,
But do not be fooled by the masks she wears.
Her closet is filled with them,
And she chooses multiple options for her day ahead.
They have never fooled me.

My favorite mask is the one she was born with,
Her in her natural state.
She shakes off her beauty,
Denying it to the world.
Her blue-green eyes are hidden behind books,
Or they hide under her mane of dark hair when she writes.
She will smile when you approach her,
But it is just another mask she employs to hide the pain I see in her eyes.
The masks have never fooled me.

In my thoughts she is my Bellona,
Fighting battles on a terrifying battlefield.
Her choice of weapon is inconsequential,
Her eyes and words can be fatal.

Her friendship is rare and unique,
She is my Guildenstern and I am Rosencratz.
I would follow her across the galaxy,
And together we would be kicked out of Elysium.
Deep secrets are traded between us,
A currency worth more than money.

She is a woman of many layers.
Every day is full of surprise, laughter, and mischief.
No one could manage us.
Conversations are endless,
Hearts are placed on the table.
Trust is gained and built,
Each brick of trust adding to the celestial temple of our friendship,
Where masks are left at the door.

She is a precious and stubborn gift life presented me with,
No matter how much she denies her importance.
She is my dark angel...my master of masks.
She is my war goddess...my protector and supporter.
She is my partner in crime...my creator of oh so delicious ides.
She is the thread that keeps me tethered today this enchanting life.

We all got so used to wearing so many different masks,
that we quite forgot about the literal one, well, until now

life, for her, was a masquerade ball.
her purse was full of colorful masks.
each mask was carefully crafted,
designed to impress everyone else.
she was always watchful
with one hand in her purse
so she could switch masks.

he walked into the ballroom,
slowly approaching her.
she took off her mask,
fumbling in her purse
for a different one.
he caressed her arm
and shook his head.

the breeze tickled her face 
for the first time during the ball.
he quietly gazed into her eyes,
smiled to calm her racing heart,
then pressed his lips to her cheek.
they danced for the rest of the ball,
and her masks were never seen again.

Selfish are we,
as they breathe death.
Creeps undetected,
its gluttony is relentless.

Infected by narcissus,
obsessed with “want”.
Devoured and exhausted,
we perish when exposed.

Divided by masks,
one selfless,
the other selfish.
It's your choice.