Lipstick is stronger than I am: A poem

Let me first take of my makeup. Save you the trouble of smudging the eyeliner I wear like a nametag. Filled in with the performance of a first-impression, Erased by hands that grab for the space in between their fingers. There is no need to leave streaks underneath my eyes, I don't want you to know I am crying. These black rivers will not serve as a reminder of our meeting, you are a face I cannot forget.

Let me first scrub the red from my lips. Save you the trouble of later wiping the staining and screaming color from your skin. Oh, the inconvenience of lipstick; how it bleeds onto all that threatens its surface. Lipstick is stronger than I am. Let me save you the trouble of cleaning yourself off. Just like you, I have no desire to feel dirty.Tomorrow, as I wipe the residue from the corners of my lips I will only be reminded of the words I could not say.

Let me first wash the blush from my cheeks. Save you the trouble of attempting to interpret the flush of my face. I assure you I will lay there frozen and pale, stark white and with only the ghost of roses. Let me wipe a tissue across my cheeks, let the shine of my nakedness be anything but ambiguous so that when you look down all you can see on my face is fear.

Lipstick is stronger than I am. I slather across the cracked and sewn shut lips of my body and hope she can deliver on the promises of recognition. I perform for you like a lesson I was taught on the eve of my coming of age, like from a manual that streams from my earbuds as I walk. I walk through crowded streets of men, lips and cheeks pink and bright, I sink back my teeth and try to breath steadiness into the panicked rhythm of a heartbeat. It is so scary to be all dolled up, and it is so scary not to be.