Maybe it's a sign
I don’t know when I stopped
the daily painting of my face
On a Monday?
Maybe a Sunday
or some other day between
It could have been deliberate
an attempt to feel more proud
But it's most likely I was exhausted
and my teenage fears just weren’t as loud
I’m sure I could still find
some current reasons to disguise
lashes lightened by sun kisses
and moments etched in laughing lines
So this Friday I decided
to find mascara and lipstick
To conceal my hard earned freckles
and make my beauty cosmetic
Of course the sky chose now to open
to quench the thirsty dusty land
and my painted face has melted
ruining all of my plans
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Yeah, isn't it just the way things go sometimes?
I love how the poem relates to so many, asks for empathy, and ends in a comical way. Well, comical to the viewer, not the one whose face is all covered in streaks.
- #419 Posted 7 years ago
Brilliant. Not one for make-up myself and I am constantly astonished that someone would say that laughter lines are things to be ashamed of and need to be covered up (with this lovely and expensive goop that I happen to be selling).
I found myself smiling all the way through this piece and commiserating at the end. Nicely done.
- #422 Posted 7 years ago
- Published 7 years ago.
- Story viewed 11 times and rated 0 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?