TO THE MAKEUP ADDICT

She’s a facial artist

And she sees her face as building

A building she restarts every morning after collapse

She’s a one man squad

And her foundations never seem strong enough to bear the weight of bricks as blushes

The roof shaped   curves over her lashes always lack accuracy

So she dismantles the brows in a bid to rebuild the lintel

Her jaw bones are the pillars

Forbearing the weight of truthful pretence

She overlays her paintings and at the end becomes a scarecrow of herself

She walks circumspectly

Scared of hugs that attempt to shade of her facial work of art

And when the sun rises

And her sweat pores exchange pleasantries with nature

Her paint begins to wash away like oil

And the building melts away like iron

She finds solace in the cave of her kerchiefs

Seeking to maintain composure

But if only she realized she was dust

And excess weight on the mansion of her face will do nothing but collapse her building

Maybe she would be less worked up as she is

For societal acceptance depends not on the artistic building of the facial mansion

But the interior decoration left undone in the apartment of her brain

Culled on facebook
Written by Olagoke Temitope Johnson