Hide and Go Seek as a game
is a misnomer.
There seems to be a misplaced thrill associated with
Finding people's hiding places
When that, to me brings all-encompassing fear.

I hide my uneven nail beds with coats and coats of
A glossy sheen
Which I will paint on and shed off about every three days.

Rolls of fat shoved under higher-rising pants
That inevitably require chronic readjustment.

Tears masquerading as an "off night",
Trumped with a plastered smile as I revisit the midnight car crash.

I can buy more nail polish,
I bought a blubber-masking skirt.
but how much longer will the smile last,
waiting in the dark,
dreading the moment when Billy finds me
weeping,
Parading behind the drapes?