"concealers" poems
This is one interesting day
when my father gifts makeup kits and concealers
to my mother
To hide the slap marks gifted to her a day ago.
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 10:21 PM UTC
Blades and Band-Aids,
Concealers and Pain Relievers,
Sleeping Pills and Abandoned Trills,
Tired Eyes and a Young Sunrise,
Friends That Can Care While I Despair.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
She was grateful
For the concealers who hid her eyebags
She was happy
Even for her empty lunch bags.
The grumble of her stomach didn't matter
As long as her thighs were not touching each other
So what if she forgot her in the Victoria Secrets
She is no longer named unfit.
She still hears the murmurs on the hallway
Taining her dreams every day
She is aware of their glares
That are giving into her scars
Her wounds are still afresh and open for more salt
But her smile still intact by default
All alone she watched them feel her body
All along she bit her lips from screaming in agony
The scarlet blood joined her maple red lipstick
She stood there watching her self worth
Dropping like the length of her favorite skirt
The corset is painting her skin purple and blue
But she has no clue
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 9:33 AM UTC
Rebels are dreamers
Leaders are reformers
And dusty attic boxes are always full
Lovers are concealers
and Musicians are redeemers
I guess that makes me a
Believer
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 6:00 PM UTC
Constant staring at the mirror every minute till I feel dizzy and my eyes can't carry it out any longer.
Just standing there hoping the zits, dark spots will magically disappear
Each night,It's a daily routine of skin care,pampering the skin with pricey fade out creams, scrubs, even out and Popping doxycycline pills.
Why can't I have the perfect skin like girls my age?
'Just give it a bit of time, they'll go' they always say.
But what ******* time?
I'm tired of hiding it all beneath the foundations and concealers.
Even with makeup, I still feel the need to hide the ******* scars on my face marred by acne.
With these feelings of insecurity and self consciousness
There is a Daily reminder of how ugly and unlucky I am
I can't take it anymore
Acne is a curse.
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 8:50 AM UTC
I have these imperfections
That I try to cover up
But recently I’ve ditched the concealers
For a more natural and tired look
And to my surprise
I have never been called beautiful
More times in my life
The warming of my heart
Stemming from the compliments
Adds a glow to my cheeks
That not even the most expensive of highlighters could provide
The wide smile across my lips
Creates a perfect shade of lipstick
That you wouldn’t find at the Mac store
The sincerity heard from strangers
Creates a sparkle in my eyes
Hence eyeshadow is no longer needed
People point out the allure
Where I myself see flaws
And instead of unattractive
I have never felt more beautiful
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 9:06 AM UTC
Mirror mirror on the wall,
cuts and scars and suicidal falls.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
pressures upon pressures,
mascaras and concealers
on the dressers.
The who am I’s
the broken smiles
upon short journeys,
feeling like a million miles .
Sticks and stones break the bones,
with sharp edged swords, depression is shown.
The melodramatic emphasis of artificial fixtures,
the wrong lessons from photo shopped pictures.
The melodramatic emphasis of the "It crowd"
People, rambunctious and obnoxious
malevolent and pretentious .
Mirror mirror on the wall...
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
Have you ever felt empty inside?
Have you ever felt that feeling of nothingness in the pit of your stomach
and it just stays and lingers for a little while,
you can't tell if it's from the lack of emotions or food.
You say you have it under control when really it has control
One bite and your thighs are like balloons blowing up
Two bites and you are suddenly 10 pounds heavier.
Have you ever felt That beautiful feeling of a hot cup of tea going down your empty stomach almost as a warmth, cause it may be July but you are just so cold.
The concealers you use on your knuckles to hide the marks of when your teeth hit cause your finger
just can't empty out all the hate you have filling your stomach
this isn't a poem about getting better.
This is a poem of what it's like without the better ending
the story of the girl who starved her self with a plate before her.
How selfish she was.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 2:03 AM UTC