I took a blade home and tried it on
my skin as you would to a nice new
shade of lipstick.
It suited my skin and was long lasting.
I'm addicted; so much that I reapply it
every day.
Finally I've found, the perfect shade to
compliment my skin tone.

I remember it all as The 1975 played
Eyes dancing in the smoke of your wilted cigarette
Tangled in the bed comforter
Our lips pressed together
Carving novels from the sweep of your eyelashes
Your hand on my leg sending lightning through my bloodstream
Kneading contained desire into new shapes
Though room was frigid  
I could feel my cheeks getting crimson and heated
As we pressed closer
Skin to skin
Whispering unspoken truths through laced fingers
My lipstick wore off on your neck
Around the bruises I left
Time waving goodbye as the sun slowly rose

At 1 am, he tasted like cigarettes and was over 6'3 in all black.
I didn't know his name & I didn't care.

At 2 am, he gave me ****** beer and held my waist and taught me how to kiss.
His eyes held secrets, I'm sure, I didn't want to know. And his smile said I'll -****-you-up in a **** kinda way.

At 3 am, he was ready for more and I craved another touch, another kiss from this bad boy at the bar.
Drunk off who knew what and this overwhelming urge of lust.

At 4 am, i had bruises on my arms and lipstick across my face left in a ***** bathroom with no shirt.
He tasted like cigarettes and I wanted to puke.

Don't tell me
to get used to disappointment—
that my hopes should always
stay close to the ground.
Because defeat
doesn't complement my complexion.
But if you insist upon saying it,
pass me my lipstick.
Just like Ms. Molly Ringwald,
I'll apply that **** with no hands—
a wet, slick shade of red that reads
with confidence and promise.
And just before I slow kiss
the half-empties from your lips,
I'll slip something half full
into your pocket.
Neatly folded, on lined paper,
it will read:

*You see, hope is like having a ****.
What’s the point in even having it
if you can't manage to get it up once in awhile?

She prepares her kit
To turn into someone else
She's done this for years
Not knowing how to be herself

She smears her lips
With a bright bold Mac
Drawing an artificial smile
Hoping she wont crack

She grabs her eyeliner
And traces her eyes
As strokes of mascara
Send lashes toward the sky

She dips herself in powder
And draws two circles for blush
She irons her natural hair
With every bristle and brush

With this new mask on
She could now face the world
Yet I still wonder
Will I ever meet the real side of this girl?

I told you that night
When the temperature hovered
At 32 degrees Fahrenheit that
Girls like me don't have a god
We are the girls with
Dark cherry lips
Cigarette smiles
That get drugs for free
We break hearts
With no remorse
Vanity is our religion
Always made up for photographs
In thick makeup and black clothes
We worship our goddess Aphrodite
And she gives us the power to be
Invincible

And felt as beautiful as you think she is.

I wish I walked into a room and grabbed attention as much as she grabs yours.

I wish I spoke and captivated someone the way she captivates you when she says your name.

I wish I awoke in the morning and heard my true love's heartbeat next to mine as she does every day.

I wish I knew a love as strong as your love for her.

I do not wish for your love, though, because I know that is one thing that is far out of my reach. I only wish for someone to love me the way that you love her, so that maybe someday I will love him as much as I still love you.

The kind of girl to down shots of ***** and strangle your name on other peoples lips.
The kind of girl to keep you up at night praying to a god you've never believed in just for him to look over his creation once more, she can't love oh Heavenly Father she can not love. Let her love me.
The kind of girl to kiss after every accidental 'I love you' you managed to cough out in ****** words because God knows this kind of girl is the kind to run when spending the night in his bed gets brought up
The kind of girl to dig her nails into her own skin to keep from killing everything she is, everything she's feared she could be.
The kind of girl to dress her curves in all black and leave her lipstick stain all over your shirt