Made Up.

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.

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