Colors spread out on the counter
Velvet, gloss, matte and powder
But will you recognize your face
Come the end of happy hour?
Curling your lashes til they fall off,
Say you like how it makes you look soft,
But the persona disappears
Once you wash it all off.
Red is your favorite, a lip that’s daring,
But you’re prettiest on the nights you stop caring
What people think ― all that matters is you.
So ignore the mirror, you’re the only one staring.