2 June 2012
She lifts a wipe to wash away
The face she'd worn for the day,
The plaster that smoothed over her cracks,
The kohl that lines her eyes in black,
The blush that picked out her contours,
The stain that made her lips the centre
Of her face, underneath her nose
The tantalising buds of rose.
But when it all is cleared away
That pretty young woman doesn't stay
And in her place a scared little girl
Naive spirit sapped by the world.
The light gone from her hazel doe-eyes,
Cheeks hollowed out by earthly lies,
Forehead showing hairline strain,
Fractures from her personal pain,
Colour drain from cheeks and lips,
Sallow, coming off in chips.
Once a picture of beauty and health,
That portrait replaced by someone else
And as said portrait disintegrates
No amount log make-up will save, it's too late.
The Picture Of Elise • Opuss № I