don’t let your
lipstick wear,
if it feels the urge to,
put some more on,
if you can’t find the
stick in your purse,
just try and get through
the night, the morning
will be kind,
i promise it’s not
a waste of time,
don’t let your
shirt drip,
don’t let your
buttons wave
beneath your waist,
choose a pair that
fits tighter around
the hips,
tomorrow will be kind,
use your eyes to talk
use your eyes to deny,
use your words with me,
tell me where your
lipstick is hiding.

past relationships
like useless barnboard,
scabs of shaved wood pasted
over each other only to
sit beneath abstracted
paintings of ****-less
cupboards collecting
dented ***** of dripping
varnish cans and
cigarette ashes,
still has a use, though.
I always ***** my hand
on it.

Dreams don't
But
Predictions
Do.