today i do not wax i tweeze

it is such a day

i think what do men do

was told by one some want some

tightened fastened neatened

surgically (what!)

in shock i learn things but

i am pleased with tweeze

it is such an evening

i bathe and wear my lipstick

smells like sun ripe fruit moistly red

and some perfume rose-yellow-amber

i think of you when we speak of perfumes that carry us to bed

we and perfume is all we wear

we laughed at the thoughts we shared you so far away

old but fresh pajamas

it is such a day

i watch the men below paint fresh road signs

sugar white tippex strips

i paint fresh and the paint is fresh

i come after

on a good day portrait is a masterpiece

a good imitation of my face

on the bad i do not paint at all

i cannot imitate and i will not

i leave it

it is such a day

and i am not there for all of that day

until i get home when the sun is nearly sunk

and the quiet makes me whole again

i bathe i heal i gather me

ruler of my womanly kingdom i am free

i perfume i adorn my sheets my world around my bed

i am a portrait no paint a picture fairest

below i see faint road signs fresh

it is dark yet i can see

it is such a day

seasofme120115oceanswing

not a new poem, but fitting for #mykindofbeautiful. i am very girly when it comes to the mundane regimes of neatening and pampering the body (what can i say, haha). and i love/hate doing it myself.

if i had to write a poem now, it would be different. by now i am not sure that beauty truly comes from the inside.