Flushed

A poem.

By me.

​A flush of the cheeks
Bears a certain ambiguity—
Concealing hidden wrath
Or bemused vulnerability.

Rosy in thorns,
Or rosy, adorned.

​A lie twice removed:
One to the perceiver,
One to the perceived.

​And, unbeknownst to either,
It is neither:
truth nor fallacy—

For beneath it all, each
Wears the same duality.