Lipsticks the color of blood that stained her lips crimson accompanied by the coarse mascara brush in its tube littered her desk. Mint toothpaste tumbled out of her bag and its aroma enveloped the other contents, a beach-mint sunscreen tube, a metallic mint pair of scissor-blades, and the minted rubber goggles and mouthguard.
The matching bracelet and necklace, smooth as little silver dimes submerged in crystalline water captured the essence of a majestic peacock's feather in its pattern, and the bright yellow pen akin to the lacrosse ball housed all her writing pursuits and dreams.
As she grabbed it, she wrote out the contents of her bag; a long string of descriptions just like her little black belt, an ebony ribbon tying her waist together like the ghost story of the woman with the yellow ribbon around her neck, coincidentally the same color of the pen and ball.
This is the essence of man. We are a tube of blood red lipstick, staining our lips with the glossy feeling to represent the victories of our past; the battles won that spilled the crimson desires that we now display upon us to instill fear, dignity and power, eyes burning with determination as the flames consume our lips to show there is no weakness today.
We are the mint toothpaste, the fresh scent bringing the old and weathered back in time to an era of their receiving of gifts, carols and magnificent Christmas feasts; tears pricking at their worn eyes as they sit on the cusp of oblivion.
We are the black belt tied around our waists like a black ribbon to show that our hunger for power, wealth and greed only starved us, waists growing smaller and death embracing our skeletal figures in a horrific waltz as he unties the ribbon and our bones dismember; clattering to the ground in beautiful defeat that still reeks of starvation.
We are the matching bracelet and necklace that felt exactly like the penny wishes we threw into the fountain, not knowing we discarded our souls in exchange for a chimerical hope; forever submerged in crystalline water that only showed us the beauty of our souls, and not the ugliness lurking deep within that drove us to wish it away.
•2:31am
YOU ARE READING
Midnight Musings
PoetryMy thoughts are most awake at night. Some of them are worth sharing. Most aren't. So here they are. My Midnight Musings.
