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Lisa comes to school without makeup.
April 6, 2013
“What’s wrong with her?” my boyfriend asks.
“She looks sick.”
She does, I think. Dead, almost.
A corpse created without
Kiss Me Crimson lip-gloss.
I hold my blank canvas face, ask him,
“Do I look dead?”
He stares, shakes his head.
Kisses me on my naked lips.
He and I go to the mall.
I bite my lip at the beauty department.
Plastic bottles of magic—make ugly pretty
on sale, five dollars.
I think of Her, racing into these stores,
buying potions to paint over the plainness,
investing in beauty and looking dead without it.
© Kelly F., Pompton Plains, NJ
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