Makeup

The makeup is a metaphor; you fill the gap with anything you can.

I apply my mascara with just the right flare
Making sure you can’t see too deeply into my eyes

I draw the lines around my eyes thickly, just so
You can’t see where my soul lives or dies

I cover the blemishes with foundation
So you can’t see the scars that won’t fade

I paint my lips dark burgundy
To assure that you won’t forget my smile when you’re scared away

I apply the power thinly but it’s like a veil
So you can’t see what’s so wrong beneath the surface
And so that you’ll think I’m perfect.

I’m hoping, trying to convince myself
That everything will be okay
That what you said you really felt
Even when you leave anyway

I don’t think you’ll still love me
When you find out I’m not perfect
Will you still hold me when you see me
Without all the makeup?