Midnight black ink ,
Slathered on thin or thick,
Odd lips usually baby pink,
Now.the darkest colour you could pick.
I'll smile and laugh at the comments,
Happy that it's the only thing they noticed,
Later I sift through these moments,
The truth behind the clothes and makeup barely hissed.
Later at the studio,
I'll release it all in the leaps of a swan,
And let the lipstick fly away and go,
Letting myself be me; no need for brawn.
Tommorows sickly crimson paint,
Many or little layers,
Replacing that pink, oh so faint,
As if anyone would care.
YOU ARE READING
Just a collection
Poetrythis is just a collection of poems I've written over the years
