The Makeup Artist

Minutes to midnight
A little girl twists up
a lipstick
that was
in her mother’s makeup box

and which
looks pretty expensive
with its rich shade
peachy keen

She holds it
and feels her fingers
of the other hand
on her momma’s still face

She smoothly applies it
to her lips without waking her up
feeling a restless feeling
she calls happiness


In the backstage
She’s now a girl well acquainted
with the world of beauty
and a touch of creativity

She twists up a lipstick
dark shade of plum passion
as she smiles at the model
sitting on the chair
in the neon mirror

She listens intently with her friendly ear
As she sugarcoats her lips
smoothly, expertly
Empathy in her fingertips

She feels her fingers
on the model’s face
Warm plastic beauty
She’s disgusted by it
But her fake smile doesn’t falter

In the morgue
when she holds
in her arm
the smooth face of a corpse
first of five

and with the other hand
twists up and applies
black honey lipstick
to cold lips

she smiles her real smile
a vicious smile
as she again feels
that old restless feeling
she calls happiness

and before moving on
to the next one
she finishes by using
her creative fingers
to replace the frozen frown
on the dead lady’s face
by a frozen

© M. Jay Dixit, September heart-to-hearts, 2020 All Rights Reserved

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