i wear my religion like i wear my makeup.

i put it on when i’m suppose to.

my face shines with the highlight
of the Holy Spirit on my cheekbones.

lipstick stains a bible verse which
i use for every circumstance
“God” throws at me.

i line my eyes with the blackness
of my heart and i let “God” flick it
out into a wing at the end.

after awhile though my skin
grows weary and itchy.

i can feel every pound of makeup
that cakes my face.

a single wet wipe no longer
works to dislodge the
uncomfortableness
in my pores.

i bathe in rose-scented oils
and steam my face
ritually.

everything is off.
my flaws are showing.

makeup use to be fun
when i wasn’t wearing it
for other people.

now social media lets me know
that i must contour my cheeks
with a prayer that starts with,
“dear lord,” and ends
with, “amen.”

in order to be in my family’s good
graces i must have faith in
myself but
mustn’t be prideful.

you must not use a mirror to put your makeup on.

your eyebrows should be
arched and ready to
defend,
not yourself,
but “God”
if questioned.

when you find a boy
who says he likes makeup
you must not pursue him.

he is not worthy of your highlighted face.

love yourself but
also put your
makeup first.

sculpt the nose
define the face
overline the lips.

do all that you can
to hide your real face.

make your skin scream
to be let free.

and when you take
your makeup off,
make sure to
moisturize
because your skin
has to look great when
it is drowning in
foundation.

take care of your skin
but it also doesn’t matter
so paint your face once more.

bat your eyes.
pout your lips.

but don’t be lustful.

because your religion is like your makeup...

so cake it on like a fake facade.

I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.

I can paint over nearly anything

You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.

My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.

I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
Pas-de-I-am-fine
I get a standing ovation every time

I’m very talented, you see.

But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I
Slip
Slip
Slip
Away

Right through your fingers.

White dressed girl, spinning in the room
Full of innocence, pure and true.
In the distance there’s someone else.
Dressed in black yet standing still,
Full of guilt, naughty and false.
What separates them is the gray line,
Thick yet so thin.
There on the white side,
She spins and sings with a smile.
While on the dark side,
She is standing still.
What the pure girl doesn’t know
The dark girl does know.
The pure girl was never pure,
But instead was evil galore,
Just like that depressing girl.