I am a stick of Chapstick,
rolling around in the dryer,
leaving little marks
that won't be discovered until later,
after I am gone.
I could be a ruby lipstick,
tumbling against the whites,
branding each with bright streaks
defining my destruction in red
as I go.
But no.
I'm the Chapstick, hiding stories in plain sight.
***
New art and an observation.
4 comments:
I like the art. I love the poem! :)
tera: Thank you. That makes me happy.
The poem rocks. I love the imagery it creates. And hey, I've felt that way.
The art is so cool, I especially love the added legwarmers.
Thanks Amy. That little brain told me what she wanted early on. I like when that happens.
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