She draws a narrow black line
On the outside of her eye.
"It keeps me awake", she said
But that was merely a lie.
Eyelashes covered thick,
Defined and long
To even-out the contrast
Of that black line she put on.
The day rolls by slowly,
That black line starts to fade.
Her eyelashes erode,
Yet no notice has she made.
She spies her reflection,
Screams for a bathroom - or a booth?
It isn't that long before
She discovers the truth.
There was no narrow black line
On the outside of her eye,
Though she still looked beautiful
And it eased her troubled mind.
Wrote this a few years back, it's hardly a literary work of genius but special to me none the less.