"lipgloss" poems
A lady in blue.
In a purse
unzipped,
A coral pink lipstick
A rose blusher
A bronzed eyeshadow
A fuschia eyeshadow
A black eyeliner
A mascara
A compact powder
A lipgloss.
Strolling in a park,
The purse
clutched.
Poised.
Protected.
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC
‘You’re so wet for me baby’ they say
‘You’re not saying no’
Rinse repeat
It hurts I say
‘That’s normal ‘
It is what it is what it is what it is
My words stop
‘You’re so quiet’ they say
If I unzip my abused vocal chords I won’t be able to stop the noise
Keening screaming bursting like a dam
It’ll fill up my head
My ******* bone marrow
Where do I begin and where do you end flush against me
I am good at being quiet
I am good at being small
I am good at being needed
I am good at pleasing others
I am good at saying yes when I mean;
Stop
Get me out
You are choking me
I can’t breathe
There is blood on my teeth
On my hands
I held you after you assaulted me for the first time and you told me about what was plaguing your mind
So I comfort you
Rinse repeat
Tell you I’ve got you through gritted teeth
Is that so bad is that so bad I am needed so why is it so ******* bad
You fill my lungs acrid and burning
Inhale exhale
Inhale exhale
Wd and vcka coat your lips like a gaudy lipgloss
Wash away the taste of you
Clean my teeth with dettol
Empty my veins clean the dirt and grime away
Trying to forget the way you coat my teeth
Your mouth is so good baby’ you say
It is bad honey and expired milk
It is not being touched since
It is not sleeping
It is wanting to be held but being terrified of the thought
To be held is to be vulnerable
Split me open
Look inside
Apr 25, 2023
Apr 25, 2023 at 8:45 AM UTC
nothing like going back
to the golden days
when getting up 20 minutes earlier
was a fun thing
to put on a bit of mascara
and lipgloss;
the blush was natural.
now 20 minutes of sleep
seems like a treasure,
worth everything
and never to be given up.
back when laughter was sunflower yellow,
music was neon blue,
and friends were a sweet purple,
their smiles like lavender
addicting and easy to find.
nothing like going back
to the golden days
when choosing the font for a paper
was an hour long experience;
the funnest part of writing anything.
now no writing matters
to anyone
unless it's 12pt font,
Times New Roman,
double spaced,
and with a heading in the top left corner.
back when school was light,
homework was a breeze,
and the only thunderstorms
were those that involved
coffee shops, window seats,
and copious amounts of hot chocolate.
nothing like going back
to the golden days
filled with warmth
and honey
and a whole lot of butterflies.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
Abigail slides the glass door shut.
As beads of water percolate off her body
and land on the faux stone tile,
the smell of chlorine from her swim
and the smell of coffee from my brewing *** blend.
My uncle, Abigail's father, and my mother
are seated at the sticky, spilt soda kitchen table beside me.
"Go get ready for dinner," my mother's brother says, sending
Abigail's bikini'd frame through doorway and around the bend.
The brew idles, and I'm all porcelain and sugar substitute for a moment,
then back by my uncle and mother.
"Abigail has gotten so thin," my mother says.
"Is she eating?" my mother asks.
"I know it's tough for girls her age. When they're looking to marry," my mother says.
I want to bash the smoking cup into her face.
My uncle says she's been training for a marathon.
My neurons get tidy and taper off.
So, it's out of the kitchen and into an empty living room
to park my *** on an empty piano bench.
I set the coffee on top, and press eight of my fingers down
on black keys.
I hear toes-to-heels, toes-to-heels.
I gaze over my shoulder.
Now, Abigail's in a black, black dress. Mid-thigh.
In her left hand,
red fuck-me-shoes with a heel that could turn a curious man blind;
in her right hand,
black pantyhose and cherry lipgloss.
"You should have swam," Abigail delivers with hushed precision,
like she'd been reciting the line throughout the duration of her swim.
Abigail has long brunette hair,
and it's sticking to her neck.
Deep permanent dimples frame her lips.
She's a nurse in Waco.
Each time I see her, I think about
Bukowski's 103-pound "Texan".
It makes me rash, violent, a heady monstrosity,
and trembling sick.
"I forgot my trunks."
"That's no excuse."
I would respond, but she's sliding the hose up her leg.
In the living room.
While my uncle talks a second mortgage around the bend.
Her right leg crosses her left,
an overpass and an interstate.
My forehead overheats in a flash,
and I feel like she's staring back at me.
When my leering eyes shift from
her toes to her eyes, the pupils beckon:
"All roads lead to me."
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 12:48 AM UTC
On Monday, November 14th
She wore her favorite dress.
Blue with grace.
Lace that covered her shoulders.
Lace that teased all the men that walked by.
Falling to her knees.
Barely brushing the scabs and scars that sat there.
Hugging her hips like the night hugs the moon.
On Monday, November 14th
She smiled.
Cherry lipgloss smeared quickly across her thin lips.
White teeth peaking out.
Her lips perfectly outlined.
The corners tucked up beautifully.
On Monday, November 14th,
She stood.
Pride in her perfect posture.
Proud of her lean body.
Her body perfectly aligned.
Not a flaw.
On Monday, November 14th
Her arms were pale.
A gold bracelet hugged her wrist.
You could see each blue stream, happily working.
Dusted with freckles.
Soft and pure.
On Tuesday, November 15th
She did not wear her favorite dress.
She wore a different one.
Black with sorrow.
No lace.
Falling to her ankles.
Encasing scabbed knees.
Hugging her in all the wrong places.
On Tuesday, November 15th
She frowned.
Blood red lipstick stained her thin lips.
Her teeth hid inside her blooded lips.
The corners fell, drooped.
On Tuesday, November 15th,
She sat.
Too exhausted to stand.
She let go of her posture.
She was cautious of her appearance.
Aware of her flaws.
On Tuesday, November 15th,
Her arms were whiter than before.
Each vein slashed.
Red.
The gold bracelet still hung there.
Her freckles throbbed with pain.
No longer soft, or pure.
On Tuesday, November 15th
He died.
Early in the morning.
With him, he took her strength, her smile, her pride.
He left her bare.
On Wednesday, November 16th
She missed him.
She missed him a little too much.
Her heart couldn't take it.
Her eyes red and swollen.
She was there, but gone.
On Thursday, November 17th
She joined him, quietly.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 9:53 AM UTC
I keep it in my pocket
in case you lean in for a kiss.
You'll smell it
before you taste it
but you'll never forget it.
Maybe you'll crave it,
maybe you won't like it.
Either way it's on my lips.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
2003, where did you go?
My Scene dolls and All Time Low
Red Jeeps and glitter cheeks
Thirteen and hip hop beats
Tube tops, pop n lock
Don't forget your frosted lipgloss
Butterflies and Blink's First Date
"Forever Yours" on a silver keychain
Belly rings, snorting pills stings
Tiered skirts and ankle bling
TLR, Summerland
South of Nowhere, Degrassi: The Next Gen
Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton
Travis Barker and Ashlee Simpson
Fall Out Boy and Timbaland
Pete Wentz almost ended it
Promiscuous, Grand Theft Autumn
Jeans hung low, and girl you got em
I wanna live there over again
Everything was better then
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
-Sleeping with the lights on
-strawberry-flavored milk (because it tastes bad, but is so cute)
-naps
-being on the brink of sleep and having to pull yourself back
-you
-the smell of something smoky
-smoke getting in my eyes
-drooping eyelids
-hair in my eyes
-bad quality lipgloss
-sleeping with the lights off
-other people
---but mostly you
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
your lips are coated in poison
(full of death)
but mine are coated in lipgloss
(full of death).
He'd rather choose the poison
then fall prey to a girl
with cherry lipstick
and a pretty face
pulling him in and never
letting him
out.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
sun girls:
they’re all bright eyes and warm hands, they’ll kiss you on the cheek. beautiful freckles. glowing skin, sunflowers and paintbrushes gripped tightly in their hand.
moon girls:
dark clothes and a eyes-closed kind of grin, beat up sneakers and an arizona iced tea, hair that shines, they sparkle even in the dark. soft kisses that taste like spearmint.
mercury girls:
smooth talkers, could convince you to do anything. big eyes and round lips, hair tied up or tucked behind their ear. late night walks and quiet conversations.
venus girls:
lipgloss and breathless laughing, soft hands and tummy. kissing their girlfriend randomly. a voice like honey. hypnotizingly lovely. muffled music and strawberry lemonade.
mars girls:
quick winks and subtle smirks. would **** for you. a love deeper than the ocean, strong shoulders and collar bones. ****** knuckles healing over and tight hugs.
neptune girls:
dreamy girls, hazy around the edges. tilting their heads to the side and sleeping soundly. delicate hands and cherry chapstick. hot cups of tea served with knowing eyes.
saturn girls:
sharpened pencils tucked behind their ear. serious eyes with a hint of laughter. tapping their toes and paying attention. books piled high with the pages well loved.
jupiter girls:
moving their hips and applying lipstick. a smile that electrifies you and lips that entrance you. has a hundred admirers but loves the one girl she can’t have. red lights and excitement.
pluto girls:
confidence that carries through the air. tastes like energy drinks and lightning. crooked smile messy hair. continuous movement with no time to talk. gesturing hands and shuffling papers.
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 9:16 AM UTC
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are stay-in-the-line
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are achieve-in-school
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are parrot-the-teacher
You’re an individual, so I know that you can do as well as them,
because you’re unique
You can be just like them
just as good as them
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are buy-these-too
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are create-your-self
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are mimicking-the-6-foot-model
You’re one of a million, so how about you pick one of these six lipgloss flavours,
because it’s you
You can pick one of these
support the institution with your you-ness
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are corporate-climber
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are defining-your-strengths
Be yourself
Be yourself
You are do-it-for-the-raise
You’re indispensable to this project, you as you as you as a subordinate
because you’re important
you can get where you want in life
if you smash a few heads as you climb
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 8:44 AM UTC
i like wearing miniskirts and i read marie claire
i like bubblegum pop music and i like to dye my hair
i like rich thick hot pink lipgloss and i like to pretend
i still dress up all the time even though i’m seventeen
and im learning how to defend myself
i pretend my legs are made of silk and i pretend im sleeping beauty
i fake like im a natural blonde and fake like im a cutie
i like having kitten pits and i like kissing girls
i like clothes that show off my **** and i like wearing pearls
i like the way my hair smells of peaches
and i like it even when it reeks of 15 different kinds of bleaches
im a ******** soft girl
im a pincushion queen
a raspberry swirl cheesecake
a pretty little thing with a head full of snakes
deliberately unclean
deliberately obscene
pretty as yesterday’s underwear
pretty as the roots of courtney’s hair
pretty as my favourite les mis scene
when anne hathaway’s fantine dreams a dream
and her nose starts running as she starts to cry
and everything felt real for once in my life
i’m covered in face powder and i’m covered in dirt
and you’ll never know joy if you never know hurt
and that’s why they make disney princess plasters
so when you skin your knees you’ll only feel prettier after
let’s talk about all the junk we like
and re-learn the art of laughter
i’ll be in the kitchen making raspberry tea
whenever you wanna join me
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
I held her close
her lips touched my neck
bite marks are left
but I felt something slipping away
but what I then didn't know
It wasn't her hand that slipped away
it was my beat
that was slowly fading
as I fell
in darkness
alone
slipping away...
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
Lipgloss dripping candy lacquer aquamarine
Wrought silk enfolding shadows of her shoulders obscene
Drugstore ribbon laced her feet just as in my dream
She reduces me to liquid in an urban machine
On the asphalt a virile shellac.
Power like a thousand ships of industry steel
Columns fall to soldiers at the clack of her heel
Sirens’ polished poisoned fruit that drives one to ****
A Dahlia's vitality shunted and left to congeal
In that pool, then a wave of relief.
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
your kiss was as tasty
as strawberry sauce.
but was it your tongue
or just your lipgloss?
your hair smelled of wild flowers,
sickly sweet and divine.
your perfume was so rustic,
like a soft scented pine.
your eyes sparkled bright
like the overhead stars.
with you softly singing,
and me strumming guitar.
we danced until morning,
skinny dipped in the stream.
it all seemed so perfect,
could it be just a dream?
our nights that summer,
i won't soon forget
the memories we made
or the girl that i met.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
PINEAPPLE LIP GLOSS
By: RENE
Not long ago
I fell in love
With her beautiful lips
I will never forget how sweet
That lingering after taste
Stayed in mouth well after she walked away
And
When
She was almost out of my eye sight
It became real cerebral melancholy of a love affair
I had misplaced
It took from me something objective
Watching her leave of absence
And
From a distance
At that very precise moment
It became a sharp piercing pain in the center of my heart
But I remember
Oh how I remember
I remember
Her
(PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS)
The way we French kissed for long periods
When I held on tightly
Tightly til midnight
The memory of her legs in white embroidery stockings
How my fingers danced with excitement
Triggering investments traveling up down her highway
I was dizzy
While tickling the measurements of her
Inner thighs
I remember this
When I was
Creating
A representation
That was supposed to last forever
The further she walked the smaller she grew in my vision
My eyes became a small rain storm drenching screaming
Pulling me away from dreaming
Away from my world as I had become too know it
I
Didn’t know what to say now
Like words on a black board being erased
I was at a loss for words
So I held on to the memory
Of
Her
(PINE APPLE LIP GLOSS)
The way we French kissed for long periods
No air escaping
Imprisoning our tongs
My own
Perfect example I visualize an imagine
I create in my mind the ability to conceive my own embodiment
A pine apple salad with the juices flowing over
When we touched each other’s lips
Among other things!
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 9:54 AM UTC
It's that smell of last
cigarette
on your clothes
the hole burned through your white cotton
tshirt, pink lipgloss on the cuff of your sleeve
where has she been kissing?
I shouldn't care.
You're sixteen, seventeen
eighteen?
You're too old, you're too young
i'm the little sister, aren't you suppose to be
worried
about me?
It's a lullaby now, a song of return a
scent i associate with family
smoke
sweat and
sugar.
Mar 4, 2010
Mar 4, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
You once asked me why I love you.
The mascara of curiosity outlined the questioning glare of your eyes, and your fruity scented lipgloss covered your worrisome words with a hint of doubt – and strawberries.
And just as I was about to pluck the ripest answer from the back of my mind you interrupted me and planted seeds of insecurity you so desperately try to force under the earth – away from the eyes of those who live above it.
You remind me of the way you push me away whenever the going gets tough, even though together we're tougher than anything rough, pushing back harder than any kind of force that you apply on me whenever I'd ask, "What's wrong?"
You remind me of the way you cling to me like magnets on a fridge,
of the way you can't hold much of a conversation because you're awfully shy,
Of the way your interests differ from mine,
Of the way your smile lacks luster compared to other girls' smiles.
So I remind you, that whenever you'd push me away I'd pull you in even closer,
that my hands cling on to your waist, like magnets on a fridge,
and that we'd stand there with me embracing you, and silence embracing us, because worrying about words to say would only get in the way of me appreciating what's in my arms,
I remind you that my interest in kissing you, differs in your interest in kissing me.
And that your interest in my smile differs from my interest in your smile, unique and perfect on you and simply only you,
Never will it fit better on anyone else.
So you ask, and I reply,
The answer is quite simple love,
My heart is forever yours, because all of the above.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
Highheels and miniskirts
mascara and manicures
lotion and lipgloss
A girls world is a mist of all things non "boy"
and yet
it all sercretly revolves around boys
what he wants
what he likes
why are we trying so hard to impress them?
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 5:13 PM UTC
laying in bed with ephemeral kate:
her hands are
brazen, fingernails clenching upon
my hips beneath the sheets,
her grip barely elucidated beneath
buttercream bedsheets.
her pale pink *******
cast aside hours ago,
and now the sun slants
westward upon her bedroom walls.
I laid waste to her skin,
ravaging her with lips and tongue and teeth,
and I am
sated, if only for the moment,
scent of her skin upon my tongue and
her ****** a badge of honor upon my mouth.
her bedsheets are ruins,
UNESCO World Heritage Site
waiting to be uncovered and reclaimed;
if it wasn't oh so lovely,
laying languorous limbs
asprawl, your stomach pulsing beneath
my thigh, her chest
rising and falling, rising and falling,
beneath my head; I always boasted I was
cutest when sleepy, and she always
murmured assent with a halfsmile;
that ******* halfsmile, playing
around the corners of her
endlessly kissable mouth,
lips glistening with a mix of
lipgloss and ***
the sun dips down towards the horizon,
a girl hurrying homeward a minute after curfew;
her nails traverse upwards,
scouring my spine; my mouth is
pressed against her neck, tentative
words and laps embossed upon
the hollow of her throat.
she laughs, she sighs,
endlessly inimitable kate.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Women should accommodate for men
Watch life through their lens
Follow the latest a trends
But most of all accommodate for your boyfriends
On men's magazines you see a body builder
A pillar, a vacuum, ******* in space
Toned and cloned
But women must have grace
On a women's magazine you see weight loss
Clearly we cannot be the boss
Go apply your lipgloss
My advice is reclaim your thrones and space
Apply your war paint
**** restraint
Do not let them encase you
In a glossy magazine
Do not let them erase your face
Climb up this staircase
Pick up your mace
Smash the glass ceiling
Do not accommodate for their feelings
Make them beg your forgiveness kneeling
Women should accommodate for their ego
Like a snake it wounds around your body
Tightening and restricting
Constricting your opinion
To give way for their dominion
**** them
**** all who stand in your way
Make them pay
For the way they made you purvey and obey
This is a new day
Today women should accommodate for the their own ******* selves
Not placed on bookshelves
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 7:25 PM UTC
Pressure to be pretty in the unearthly hours of the morning
Eyes pulled down by bags, bloated and yawning
Eyeliner and lipgloss and concealer thick and fast
Covering the callouses, praying it'll last
looking good and smelling good and in the peak of health
Its all an uphill struggle to better your fine self
Judged by a jury of unexperienced youths
Panicing at lunchtime, retouching in the loos.
Hair and eyes and lips and cheeks and clothing and skin
Bottle after bottle, empty in the bin
Scraping and slathering, plucking and plastering.
The never ending problem, thats actually, within.
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 1:52 PM UTC
I can feel a tsunami coming, it's on the horizon, begging to be set free
The dam is breaking; the desire to tear
And when I let it loose, let the demons run free,
Im going to drown in the blood pooling like a waterfall from my wrist
When I see the tide is high I will gently allow the water to break
I will stop the red pulse of shimmering lipgloss only when the floor cannot breathe from the sea of red, glazed over like a sheet
Let the salt from the red drip onto the floorboard like the baptism of a young child
Only there is no water and this is not a game suited for children
Some call it selfish, destructive
My doctor tells me I have a borderline personality
But me, the hazards from this game entice me as a lamp does a fly
I'm aware of the light, been close to it too many times
But never has the beast in me dared to touch
Someone pulls me back to darkness and intertwined shaking hands
Of yours they make me feel safe and less abused
We stitch the walls, we close the blinds
This isn't over yet; laceration comes too easily to ignore
But for this moment, glowing eyelids, I pray dear God, don't take me yet
His grip loosens, but I know, soon I'll be back for more
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 4:00 PM UTC
smudged ink and lipgloss. is this me?
what I wouldn't give to be that blue rubber band around your wrist
I wish I cold crawl into your skin and stay there. is this love?
id give anything for you to touch me. please, I'm asking nicely
when you touch me I swear my skin catches on fire and for you? Id burn if you asked me
an: again, if you like this style or my work please let me know! I want to actually publish
Sep 3, 2021
Sep 3, 2021 at 3:26 PM UTC