Vile and Compacts

Sweep the soft brush across my face
The gently perfumed powder smoothes out
My imperfections.

But sometimes, Love I feel that it’s not enough.
Swirling the bristled wand into the foundation,
Watching fallen dust dance in the florescent lights and land on the
Vanity.

Brushing it over my cheeks, with a practiced hand, making them pale
Dipping a fine pencil into a pot of eyeliner
The clotted black droplets drip onto the messy table,
Landing with a small splat on a mirror,
My reflection further distorted.

I carefully paint deep wells of darkness around my eyes,
They’re endless black holes, used to disguise the orbs beneath.
Love, you adore them.

You could stare within the blue
Like a cerulean sea, you are a sailor joyful to drown.
Another tally,
Another flaw on an endless list.

You say I’m beauitful, inside and out.
We are gazing into two different looking glasses,
Glasses speckled with powders and paints,
Tools used to
Camouflage.

You beg me to take away the face I cannot stand the idea
My worst fear is that you will see me one day without
My precious mask.

I cram the vials and compacts away,
Cradled within the bag
Much to small to fit everything.
Until tomorrow.