I don't know who faces me in the mirror.
She is very beautiful, face a painted perfection.
My eyes burn and I see hers water in return.
I don't know who we are.
Or who we will be.
But we are beautiful now.

My eyelids are gold.
My lips rosy, and lashes black.
A contrast against light hair.

It's raining, now.
The temptation to go and walk until I cannot stand without shuddering from cold is unbearable.
But my mascara will run, and she will disappear.
And there will be no thick foundation to hide my blush, or eyeliner to mask hysteria.

I have places to be today- so do you.
None of us, none at all, can afford to not be beautiful.
Not today. Not tomorrow.

Only yesterday.