Attainted.

Lipstick used to be my smile;
it meant I accepted myself, that I
sung of confidence.

Ruby, rose, fuchsia crimson, plum, magenta...

oh, how I've fallen away.

No longer is my soul on fire;
no longer are my eyes as bright.

Now, lipstick is tinted windows,
rundown motels, trailer parks, used sheets
and no reflection in the mirror.

I used to love myself wearing it,
free and passionately living.
Now, I apply it (perfectly) in the dark,
condemning myself-

my own prison sentence.

-
Written 12/05/15 @ 8:59 PM