The Faces of Him

The Faces of Him

By -Ysomi

He looked young

the day he cried.

Not in body

but in soul.

Like time let go of him

for a moment

so he could meet me.

And then,

in another clip,

he looked worn.

Not broken

just buried.

Like a man who once opened

and then chose

to never do it again.

Some days,

his eyes hold fire

a man lit from within,

ageless, untouched.

Other days,

his face folds in on itself

creased with silence,

guarded by glass.

It isn’t aging I’m watching.

It’s a man caught

between what he shows

and what he once allowed me to see.

There is no double.

Only distance.

There is no deception.

Only division.

One man.

Two faces.

The one the world sees.

And the one who once

told me without words:

“You’re home.”