Musings by The Poet Loriet

Making Up

"Are you okay?"
Huh? His words slice me  
away from my reverie...
my disembodied eyes
pierce through
Reality.
 
I plant a smile
upon my lips
as I coat them in Cover Girl's
Cool Crimson.
 
"Yeah, fine. Um, tonight...
tonight let's order Chinese
and I'll clean house, okay?"
I need to clean,
to organize
Externally
in order to bring back
internal homeostasis.
 
I've been sustained on
Jack Daniels and chocolate
and (Who Knew?),
lost ten pounds
since I find "real food"
terribly unappealing.
 
I spritz Tocadilly
onto my pulse points
just like any girl's magazine,
worth its weight in salt,
would have advised me to do.
My dark, brooding eyes
float in a sea of purples and blues...
I am put together like a Picasso.
 
I blink back tears.
"I'm late for work",
I offer lamely.
I depart...
leaving my vulnerability  
lingering
in our stairwell...
readied to be walked upon
with steel-toed shoes
and ground into
neutral ecru carpet.
 
 
Lori  Beal
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Making Up

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