Poetry & Prose


the shadow of a cupid’s bow

resting between cheeks grows

more and more prominent with

each   passing   day


as an object it’s gotten to a point where

the natural hue looks

washed out




     *funny how the original looks so bleak*


it’s not a plea but a shout.

a building sense of self-awareness that

helps me

be the me

that you…have grown to love


these tints aren’t permanent but

it’s better than nothing and

helps shape the day


the bare minimum simply doesn’t cut it

compared to the

tailored taupe on Monday


primped and primed plum on Tuesday


neatly layered nude on the Thursday before


risky vibrant red on Friday

   *on Wednesday the shades are rinsed out like watercolors*

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