A brown paper parcel, frayed at the edges,
My name crumpled into hills and vales
By the transit.
I open it.
Two Lipsticks and a Letter.
I am not much of a lipstick woman.
And pink and peach are not at all my colours.
On my overflowing dresser, I let them lie,
Lonely and lost, amongst the M.A.Cs and Maybellines.
But then, there is the letter.
It is short but says a lot:
Gratitude. Respect. Affection.
Floods my eyes
And my jaded, broken soul.
What is a lipstick actually worth?
Not too sure but I wear lipstick a lot these days.
Pretty Pink and Pale Peach.
Smile at the mirror
And watch my self-worth grow.