The women at my therapist’s office all wear lipstick.
I know this because the glasses are always smeared with the remnants of the mouth that drank before, sipping in an attempt to catch tears before they oxidize. Hidden behind a coffee cup, what do these women think about? When they smear on their stain in the morning do they think about their life? Are they liars, too?
When they take it off at night I wonder if they use soft soap or hard hands, desperately scratching at the crimson, the wine reds and the Malibu Barbie pinks. Ripping at the rouge. When they have finished, do they leave women behind at all?