From Downtown Brown to Undead Red,
lipstick brightened her smile,
made her lips look like Marilyn’s (you know the one),
& its calling card always let her know which glass was hers.
Lip gloss was simply the ganache
on the entrance to her cakehole.
It was her 3-second teeth whitener,
her lip balm on steroids,
her make love, not war paint,
but in its absence,
she was able to go incognito.
https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-466
Her name was Vix—
short for Victoria (with a secret)—
and for something else,
for those who knew her intimately.
She left her mark on the world—
on her children’s cheeks,
her husband’s lips,
her lover’s letters—
a mark that one could define
as neither pink nor red,
but was called “Love is On”
by Revlon.
http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-412
