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The mirror greets you
a morning view
of your present canvas to paint upon…
knowing the past night won’t prevent dawn
as you exist a pawn
of fantasy, in which you are forced to play along,
your eyes set, and jaw strong.
You begin with veils of blue to immerse your eyes,
even though they’ve realized
the one they gazed at, who basked in his own angelic light,
was the one who began your plight….
the mascara wand is now in hand,
assisting you to bat your eyes at the current land
of heartbreak and woe,
and yet, forgivingly waterproof, if tears shall flow.
A blush of rouge is applied to your pallid face
yet your mind still dances in times of grace
when your cheeks were warmed by his tender gaze,
instead of being flushed in a rush of rage.
But the finishing touch is yet to be applied,
upon the mask where youth is now a lie.
A shimmering coat of ruby red
graces the lips where not a word could be said
to confirm the promise of better times ahead…
except for a kiss, to begin another love, another day,
yet images of him embracing another seem to stay,
pulling your smile the alternate way.
Keep beaming, beautiful, for your prince will arrive…
when cosmetics seem unnecessary to keep you alive.