Makeup

Her eyeliner was smudged,

Liquid lines marked her perfect cheek.

An interruption of white by the pale grey streaks.

Dry tears a glaring reminder,

Of every slip, every mistake ever made.

Her hair was askew,

The soft brown fringe rested a mess,

On her forehead, a mismatched headdress.

The wetness evident on her brow,

From tears or sweat, I do not know.

Her lipstick was smeared,

The blood red marks across her chin

Of such ferocity, like blood it stood,

Taken by a foe as vendetta won,

Initiating a war for generations undone.

This makeup of hers, it spoke so loud.

To shut my eyes was not nearly enough.

It rang through the halls, wild and rough.

It told a story, of love undone.

Of fear and pain and much more to come.

- 2007