NaPoWriMo#13: Lipstick

Lipstick
By Justine C. Tajonera

I don't know why it matters so much,
pink, cherry-flavored moisturizing pigment.
Just can't live without it. Ingrained like don't
sit with your legs apart and shave. It comes
with the foundation and the blush and the heels
and the smile. It comes with the hint of lavender
or orange blossom on the wrists, the pierced ears
at birth or at nine, later on there's the ring on the
left ring finger preferably with a stone. It doesn't
matter what my greatest work could be. I need some
child-bearing flushed lips and cheeks, I need the
perfect cut for my rump, I need a glow like I'm hot
but not with menopause. Aphrodite, remind me, when
I do not recognize myself anymore, of Shiva and Gaea.

Woman in a Red Dress

Woman in a Red Dress

What is it about the wine-colored,
crushed-velvet red dress?
A bit of the girl in a riding hood,
a hint of the girl with wayward shoes,
a deep cinnamon base note.
The mirror where you catch a glimpse of her
is misted with dew and wet leaves,
has an ornate, gilt frame, with minute
dragons hidden at the edges.
She's there, through a door,
in a tree, in a vast forest.

You never consider
that she is you.

- Justine Camacho-Tajonera

Image from Wikimedia Commons, Daniel Case