is drawn on
with a lipstick crayon
of crimson red
making pretty
when things are ******
but it doesn't stick -

snuffed out like the light
in a wick as the wind blows
rise in the morn
tattered and torn
check off the boxes
smile at the foxes in boots
and suits

what breaks the cycle?
drinks are the substitute
for masking the pain
the mascara runs down
my face in a river of rain

next morn
draw the same smile on
with a pink crayon
don the chiffon sweetheart dress
smile that smile
and egress