She had seen faces on her phone each day,
all day, contoured, smooth. Thick, long eyelashes.
A ring light out of frame branded perfect
circles in each wide, liked, shared, open eye.

It mattered little what the faces said.
She hoped -- she longed -- to frame herself like this,
to be seen (& not seen) as she had wished. 
Gradually, her face would change. But would she?

She knew some had lost themselves in this chase.
They arrived at a new self exhausting
to maintain, based on some algorithm,
some digital fast fashion. Halfway there, 

could she change her mind? Would her face follow?
Was she ready for the surface of things? 

Written in community with VerseLove, a group of mostly educators writing a poem every day of April (National Poetry Month). The prompt for today: Write a poem about the seen & the unseen (which happens to be the name of a song I love).