The Concealer

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In front of me again 

Was she this morning. 

Her hair tangled 

Wet from shower

I helped her comb

For a minute or so

Styled her hair 

To perfection 

But her mind remain tangled in knots

Her face dry

So I put on cream

To moisturize her face

But her hope

Still running low

Like a river unaware

Of anything but summer

I picked the concealer 

Of dark shade

Same with her complexion 

For it to blend good

Perfectly hid the bags

Under her eyes

The proof of fight 

She had last night

I applied to her face some foundation 

Gave her a little color 

She needed a fake glow

Put on her light eyeshadow 

Eyeliner and mascara

To highlight again

Her broken window

Broken beyond repair stripped of light

Devoid of life

She used to paint

Her lips pink

But now she asked for red tint 

So she could hide the bite marks

She created last night

While stifling her cries

Then after few more adjustments 

She stood up and smiled 

But it looked forced and tight

So she tried wider

And she flowed like a star

“You are beautiful.”

I whispered.


“A beautiful abode for chaos”

Her inner self replied.


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