"reapply" poems
Concealed depression is
Buying water proof mascara
So you won't have to reapply makeup
after each daily breakdown.
Concealed depression is
Laughing at everything
so they won't question
why your eyes always water.
Concealed depression is
staying up until 4 a.m
because it's the only time
you can ignore the world
and no one will notice.
...Or concealed depression is
taking three melatonins
in hopes you'll sleep deep
enough to keep the terrors at bay.
Concealed depression is
Staying consistently busy
So your mind will be too exhausted
at the end of the day to fight you.
Concealed depression is
the impatient selfish monster
that burns bridges as you cross them.
Concealed depression is
feeding yourself lies like
"I'm fine" or "I won't cry".
Concealed depression is
the uphill battle that you don't get to win once;
it's a mountain you're forced to climb every single day.
Concealed depression is
silently screaming, hoping someone
will have super sonic hearing,
swoop in like a bat,
and carry you under their wings.
Concealed depression is
never hugging too tightly
or meeting a gaze too intensely
in case your guts may slip
out before you can catch them.
So when they accuse you of changing,
when they accuse you of rage and indifference,
of violence and apathy,
when they ask why you never called,
when they ask why you never told them,
all you can say is that concealed depression
is like an overbooked hotel and there's only room for one.
All you can say is that you were afraid
Your darkness would drown them too
and then there would be no one left to save you.
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 2:52 AM UTC
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.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
That feeling that you get when you drop the last bit of your ice cream cone.
When you think you lost your phone and it's in your back pocket.
When you simply can't find your glasses, which are on your head.
When you trip over a painted line.
When your bookmark falls out of your book.
When you think there's an extra step at the top of the stairs.
When you think there's an extra step at the bottom of the stairs.
When you conveniently keep hitting a newly formed bruise.
When you can't find a matching sock.
When you accidentally press send before you're ready.
When you break a hair tie.
When you step in a deceivingly large puddle.
When you get a paper cut.
When you scratch a CD/DVD.
When you sing along to a song you hate.
When someone steps on the back of your shoe.
When someone's tag is sticking out.
When someone's a loud chewer or chews with their mouth open.
When your hair blows around and gets stuck in your gum or chap stuff on your lips.
When you stain your clothes.
When you lose an earring.
When you run out of cream for your coffee.
When you get to E in your gas tank.
When you step in gum.
When you sit on hot leather seats.
When you sit on wicker furniture with shorts on.
When you get shampoo in your eye.
When the soap is so small it crumbles to pieces.
When no one refills the toilet paper.
When someone sticks the milk or juice back in the fridge with half a sip left.
When you can't for the life of you think of the name of something.
When you forget how to spell simple words.
When you have to walk barefoot on hot pavement.
When you get an awkward sun tan.
When you forget to reapply.
When you get fingerprints on your glasses.
When someone spoils a movie or TV show.
When your favorite character dies (love you Sirius).
When you have an itch with a cast on.
When you can't open a combination lock.
When you hear a mosquito in your ear.
When you drop your change everywhere.
When you smudge your nails right after painting them.
When the Bruins lose.
When the end of your jeans fray.
When you get hat head.
When you get shocked by inanimate objects or people.
When you (re)realize there will never be a new Harry Potter book.
When you have something stuck in your teeth.
When you can't fall asleep at night.
When you can't turn your mind off.
When your phone decides to shut itself off.
When you have a cord that just isn't long enough.
When time after time I have to remind myself that you aren't who I thought you were.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
You stand behind me
Holding my waist
As I swipe green glitter
Over my lids
You kiss my neck
When I
Blot my blush pink lips
You run your hands
Through my hair
As I try to brush
Knots and tangles out
I bat your hands away
While giggling a bit
You always try to bug me
But I don't mind at all
I like the attention
You don't want
To mess up my makeup
But you still kiss me
I can always reapply
I snort
Because blush pink
Isn't your color
And wipe it off your lips
With my thumbs
You look into my eyes
Tell me how pretty I am
And I can feel my cheeks
Turn red and warm
I swoon a little
Thank goodness
You're holding me tight
Because I just fell
In love
A little bit more
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
I was down on one knee
Sliding that ring on your finger
That I bought after working
In Texas for a year
Now I'm down on two knees praying
I'll forget all
The lies you told
And the ones my mind found out
Looking fir an answer in the bottle
A grin like death
And breath that kills the trees
I put you out
Like a fire on the stove
Faster than greased lightning
I remembered your hands fooling
With the zipper on my jeans
I took two trips across town to the ***** house
Were liquor smiles put my heart at ease
And the only thing now that really matters
Is the way to bed and how much it'll be
At least I know that shes a two-timer
Its written out on practiced smiles
And lipstick
You reapply when I get dressed and leave
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 12:14 AM UTC
thank you for showing me
that high heels are useless
unless you strut -
so ill reapply my lipstick,
kiss the mirror instead of you,
and move on.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 4:51 PM UTC
I joke I make a great punch,
but if you knew me you'd have a hunch
something is very wrong,
when I am very gone.
I begin sinking in my chair
my emotions are very bare
I feel my heartbeat.
This liquid courage is a cheat
the after taste is not very sweet,
I drank a glass, or two
it's all gone a bit askew.
This liquid courage is a cheat
I still don't feel complete
I drank a glass, or two
maybe I don't have a clue.
I just wanted to talk without thinking
I didn't want to feel like I was sinking
everyone else in the room seems fine
maybe I should just grow a spine
but it's not even nine and my blood is half wine.
I think I'm drowning,
why is everyone around me frowning?
This liquid courage is a cheat
I just wanted to feel upbeat
maybe if I reapply my lipstick- wait, I'm going to be sick
This liquid courage is a cheat
it leaves you downbeat,
you need to find your own two feet
Get up the chair, brush your hair
and then everyone there will become aware.
Don't worry about what to wear,
because they'll all stare.
Be bare and share, you don't need this much liquid courage
but one small glass I won't discourage.
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
should they sterilize you upon joining up ?
swipe that ability
when they hand you a rifle ?
maybe they should stable your stability ?
snap up your identity
put it aside for safe keeping ?
file it under 'f' for 'family' or 'forsaken' or 'foreigner'
or 'forgive me'
send you out disconnected
with a clean bill of obedience and immorality
and if you make it back
you may retrieve those earnings
and then they can turn you loose
drafted out of the military
perhaps then
after a psych evaluation
and a tally
you can reapply
for your right to fertility?
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 10:10 PM UTC
always so predictable - retreat to the bathroom
and brush your teeth, reapply the deodorant
for another round. slink back through the door -
cracked enough to let the moans slip out and echo
into the unfurnished house. attempt - and fail
to arouse me with a probing tongue, and whisper
the same compliments that no longer impress.
pause. ****** resume.
lay me on my back or push me up against
the curtained window, it makes no difference to me anymore,
I’ll just close my eyes and pretend, making more noise
in pain than in pleasure. and when I tell you to
come, it’s a plea more for my sake than yours.
Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
little red,
you are here
to make it better
for everyone.
that is your purpose.
you are to make things
better
for your family
for other people
to make things
just a little easier
and if you are good
and kind
and nice
and fake
with a smile
cast
in plaster
maybe someday
someone will make it better for you
in return.
this is a cheerful fact,
little red.
why aren't you
smiling?
hasn't the
chalky water
and paper
dried
yet?
hmm...we might have to
reapply
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Look at how I've controlled your little mind
I find humor in when you think that without me you won’t please yours or any other eye
I can manipulate you into believing that in my absence that word pretty you will never define
Chanel, L’Oreal, Maybelline
what else of me have you prioritized
of what I offer, you own a collection so wide
from your dresser
to your pocket
or in that bag you carry by your side
contouring so you can attain that distinct jaw line
or black winged liner to change the shape of your eye
why haven't you realized?
that you're gradually making me a necessity in your lives
though
of this you have no clue
due to your false judgment which has convinced you to assume
that your flaws should be hidden because they don’t make you, you
The richness of the colors I offer
will keep you satisfied
The cherry red on your lips that feels every breath
you take in
one smudge and you’re ready to reapply
why
do you act as if nature has done some sort of crime?
Let face it if there’s anyone who should be fined
it is I
for deluding you to ignore the innocence of your face
whose beauty you've chose not to embrace
and have resorted to me as your only escape
leaving with what’s beneath to suffocate
making you confident
like fulfilling some need
only for a period of time
I succeed
so on me don’t be too dependent
for I’m just a temporary lie
step outside
keeping in mind
that true beauty radiates from what’s inside
don't take to heart on what they criticize
do not get used to me
because dear
I do not define
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:12 PM UTC
i’m wearing malbec lipstick at 330 in the afternoon, my own personal hue that stains lips and teeth, drips down my chin so a tongue flicks out to savor the drop. it leaves a maroon trace like i’ve been ******* blood.
when i swill the wine, it captivates me. like i'm swishing around my own blood, praying enough of it sloshes out to **** me.
i’m headed to catholic church in an hour, maybe i’ll light a candle for myself.
god knows i ******* need it.
i’m at that delicate lining, the in-between stage of the five stages of grief. the soft spot at the base of my skull. self-destruct button that’s so tempting, nestled between anger and depression. skip bargaining. take a trip around the sun.
i've lost my hair tie and i want it back.
i've lost my heart and i want it back. ******* give it back.
reapply mauve lipstick the flavor of malbec. go to church. rinse the good off when you get home.
i still feel him inside of me. taking everything. claiming it as his own, two hundred and fifty-eight hours later. like he’s stained me and now i'm tainted and unapproachable. undesirable.
piece of plastic wrap that used to keep his heart fresh, now i'm trash.
now i’m his.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
I cry
Recently quite a lot
Some tears fall with no why
Most are no longer fought
Like rain from the sky
Weather wanted or not
Emotions flood the eye
The mind an impossible knot
Man card revoked, no reapply
I push through all for naught
Every try
A long shot...
But it's all I got
©2024
Aug 31, 2024
Aug 31, 2024 at 11:26 AM UTC
Killing me.
that's what you're doing.
making parallels.
using parallels.
take those parallels.
scrunch them up.
wrap them up in your fist
call them your own
keep them warm in your hand
in your safety
drive them secretly insane.
your innocence.
my mind.
take your squiggled straight lines.
reapply them.
that's what you're really doing to me.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
I joke I make a great punch,
but if you knew me you'd have a hunch
something is very wrong,
when I am very gone.
I begin sinking in my chair
my emotions are very bare
I feel my heartbeat.
This liquid courage is a cheat
the after taste is not very sweet,
I drank a glass, or two
it's all gone a bit askew.
This liquid courage is a cheat
I still don't feel complete
I drank a glass, or two
maybe I don't have a clue.
I just wanted to talk without thinking
I didn't want to feel like I was sinking
everyone else in the room seems fine
maybe I should just grow a spine
but it's not even nine and my blood is half wine.
I think I'm drowning,
why is everyone around me frowning?
This liquid courage is a cheat
I just wanted to feel upbeat
maybe if I reapply my lipstick- wait, I'm going to be sick
This liquid courage is a cheat
it leaves you downbeat,
you need to find your own two feet
Get up the chair, brush your hair
and then everyone there will become aware.
Don't worry about what to wear,
because they'll all stare.
Be bare and share, you don't need this much liquid courage
but one small glass I won't discourage.
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 10:17 AM UTC
"Sometimes your worst self is your best self
The moonlight divides the shadows.
The essence of a black rose.
Butterflies flutter by through the air.
Unaware they are there without a care.
I grab thee adorable like a snuggle bear.
Not to get a job in this city is unfair.
At the interview discrimination to my face they dare.
I do not run, I am not scared.
I reapply consecutively, insanity flares.
I am invisible, I am not there.
Nobody notices or even stares.
He calls me his baby.
He treats me like I'm a lady.
His intentions are never shady.
My eyes watch his aura.
His essence glows like a tiara.
His eyes sparkle like stars.
He drives a truck not a car.
Our attraction is mutual.
So sacred & constitutional.
Our desire is not yet full.
Our passion rages like a bull.
Our time together is never dull.
His lips touch mine.
That night for the first time.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
When the boys say they "won't go as big as.." you,
When you look more like a teacher than a student,
When you see the other girls' expressions at you in the school bathroom mirror while they reapply their eyeliner,
When you sweat feverishly around those fragile powder-fresh beauties,
When you accidentally knock their things off their desks because your thighs can't fit and you were nervous to get up and walk in front of them anyways,
When they take selfies with you and your face is a mass of red, your eyes lost in your glasses, and you a blob,
When the boys you care for or even love profess their devotion to girls who are so much more beautiful than you could ever be,
When that baggy t-shirt look doesn't look chic because you have only high-neck boy shirts and are too top heavy;
Don't try to explain that your money goes to groceries so you can't afford team membership dues much less a new blouse.
Don't explain that your nice shoes need a retouch of hotglue so you really only had your snowboots.
Don't tell them that you didn't put on makeup because your mom was in the er, because even though she was, you didn't bother because you knew no amount of makeup could make them see you as an equal.
Don't you dare show them your scars.
Know that they do not laugh at you because you are not significant enough to be the topic of their conversation.
If someone says privately that they want you they will not acknowledge you in public.
If a cute person online shows interest, trust your instincts because those kind of people do not look at your kind of people.
Know that when you meet someone you might like, knowing how others see you, it's your choice if you want to hope that this one will see you any differently.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
There's a crack in the swollen sky today
We're caught
standing, stuck, underneath it.
Looking bad for the good guys down the home stretch
'cuz that ************ looks to be leaking.
Sad news from front offices
Sales figures are down again.
So bummed to slash your benefits
but what's best for you is none of their business.
With newsprint leaving light ink stains
on tabletops
and tips of the fingers,
they'll just dust crumbs from sweater vests
and sling their quarters into cold parking meters.
**** Here comes an avalanche!
Stay still. Just snow. We won't flinch.
Pretend that we can stand the stench
of the bodies on another warm Christmas.
Sad news from the offices
Pension plans are expensive
Have to reap your benefits
You should prob'ly look for work on the weekends.
Hope they like their breve drinks
Hope they won't stain fresh-bleached teeth
When the North Pole melts, the stores will sink
and the roofs of malls will stand in for beaches.
There's a crack in your lean wallet today,
It aches,
it's nothing money can't fix.
Maybe try and reapply after New Year's Day,
'cuz for now the sky is still ******* leaking.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
In the whirlwinding downpour I can see what it's for
Some semblance of a peace of mind disguised as wanting more
And filtered through your anecdotes I see the picture clearly
A moment as profound as this I'll never hold so dearly
Sincerely this time, I really must go
I'm combating with the ghosts of things that I can never know
Give me your hand, a hug, please just something
Because this ain't enough; I'm dissolving into nothing
I need one more chance, two more lives, three more times
So that I may reapply it to the format of my mind
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
There's comfort in bleeding ink.
There's home in an empty page.
Every word is a heart beat
Punctuated by the steady pump of truth.
I feel the knot in my stomach
Come undone by the poem's end.
The conclusion.
The final thought.
Sometimes the words
Don't taste right in my mouth.
Words like "ethereal" and "champagne"
Sometimes taste like burnt toast.
Sometimes they shrivel up my taste buds.
Words like "juxtaposition" and "moist"
Sometimes taste like sweet, sweet strawberries.
Though I am uncertain,
I still place them on my waiting tongue.
The curve of a stanza
Always reminded me of
The curve of a lover's back.
A soft bend.
Purposeful and precise.
This is the only love I have ever known.
Sometimes I can't differentiate
Between ***** and closure.
Both sneak up on me
When I finally put the pencil down.
When things become too much
For my broken wings to handle,
I am reminded
There is an "I" in "suicide".
When things become too much
I gargle saltwater
To replenish my eyes.
I reapply the mascara.
I take an aspirin.
And I find comfort in bleeding ink.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
You’re like a version of my favourite person
Warped with colours of the boring mainstream
You drink your oat milk vanilla latte
And punish me with exhaustive details of your youth
My lips curl into a smile on purpose
Only because it will your eyes glow
You reapply some sort of makeup
Only to pretend the bill isn’t due
I gladly oblige with my battered wallet
It’s been four years - you don’t need to be awkward
But that was then
Emotions ripe
Our weary eyes saw warning signs
Each in their own corner
Predicting each others crime
When light hits the pane
Are you thinking of my name
When you’re dancing in a crowd
Do you wish I was around
When the high hits hard
Do you miss what we had
Would you turn back time
Only to end up here
Just to do it again
Dec 8, 2023
Dec 8, 2023 at 2:03 AM UTC
I've got lines, I know them off,
I sniff them off my student card.
I twist them in my mind,
add a smile, I'm an artist.
I'm a smart girl. An actress.
I cry in rooms with the doors shut,
reapply my mascara and rejoin the party.
No would notice I'd been or gone.
No one would notice if I wasn't around.
I liven up a room,
and they like me to be there,
yet I'm never missed.
Tell me did you mean any of it?
The dreams of getting old,
did they mean anything at all?
Did you look into my eyes
and tell me you could see a future with me,
knowing all the time,
you were going to have a baby?
Imagine, a kiddie,
all little and childlike and calling you daddy.
Why did you cut me off?
Couldn't you just
explain it to me?
Who was I for a while there? Happy?
That couldn't have been me.
I'm just a fridge door,
magnetic, a face full of memories.
I'll reflect your life back to you,
I'm all smooth and shiny.
I'm great at a party. I'm blonde,
and I'm fun,
I'm numb
and all empty.
Just pass me a drink, love,
just let me forget me.
I'm in the ******* crew—
let me never see twenty.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:48 PM UTC
The jogger stops a while to catch his breath,
a sweaty grimace painted on his face.
Perhaps in half-light it appears a grin
to others - actually he feels like death.
With averageness as his only sin,
he thinks, how apt to go in such a place.
Her memory is blank beyond this place.
She draws a rasping, thin and ragged breath,
inhaling scents of forced carnal sin.
The caked make-up is falling off her face
but all her thoughts these nights have been of death;
a cigarette will reapply her grin.
The old man looks around and gives a grin
at all his children gathered in his place.
For months he has been waiting for his death,
his lungs to finally run out of breath.
The ghost of life still lingers on his face,
a long, benign existence free of sin.
Bejewelled silky hands still slick with sin
support, neck-like, a head which wears a grin
that looks like it's been stolen off the face
of mannequins and plastered into place.
Her role in hastening his final breath
still haunts her. So it shall unto her death.
This industry is headed towards death.
They think intelligence is just a sin
and try to cut him off at every breath.
He finally allows himself a grin.
With this he'll put them in their proper place
and wipe that smug expression from their face.
The kiss of malnutrition on her face,
a souvenir from those merengues with death,
lies testament to horrors in this place.
Though poverty may be a fatal sin,
she bears the burden with a toothless grin
and croons her lullaby under her breath.
Behold my face! They all know I am Death.
But truth is, there is sin in any place;
I'll grin the same before I stop your breath.
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 11:57 AM UTC
Where have I come from?
Where am I headed?
What am I doing here?
Does it feed my soul’s desire?
Who am I?
Am I who I want to be?
Am I who I’m destined to be?
Into the woods
Seeking solace and R&R,
Away from civilisation,
And the dreaded mobile phone.
Off grid, switched off and outnumbered by trees,
Explore who I am, what I’m doing, where I’m heading.
At 50
Time to take stock,
Reappraise and reapply,
And fulfil my soul’s path.
How do you do that?
When you don’t know what it is
When you don’t know who you are
When you’ve never truly been you.
Always wanting desperately to fit in,
but never seeming able.
Afraid of being judged,
yet judging too.
Never taking action
for consequential fear.
Drifting through life,
Disassociated,
Disconnected,
Discombobulated,
No surprise.
Disengaged,
Discontented,
Disenchanted.
5 nights in the woods
Just me and my tent.
Walking all day,
Staring in the fire all night.
Sitting in peace and quiet amongst coppice, hornbeam and oak
Seeking answers
With none forthcoming.
Other than taking time out.
And dreaming of
Living the #vanlife
Going where the mood takes me.
No rush, no worries, no cares,
Just me and my camper van
Freedom and
Flexibility.
Travelling on the road,
Meeting kindness of strangers,
Comfy dress down
No airs and graces,
Deep conversations,
Connection,
Move on.
Being the nomadic free spirit,
that’s me.
But is it an escape?
A way to stay disconnected?
A way to not face up to feelings
Of anger and shame?
Or will it be the making of me?
The discovery of me?
The adventurer in me?
Aug 12, 2020
Aug 12, 2020 at 2:54 PM UTC