Things

Things

Cramped
Locked away in
A drab gray
Closet
My mascara
Lipstick
Underthings
Secrets
On
Blouses
With
Buttons
Torn open
Handkerchiefs
Washed rewashed
So the stains
Will come off
An attempt
To forget
Tears that tell
Their own story
Running down
In places
One can never
Reach
That's what
The mascara
Is for
Waterproof
So that
when
What must
Fall falls,
No trace can
Be seen
That's what
The lipstick
A brilliant red
Is for
A clever
Distraction
From the
Dark lines
Underneath
Tired eyes
Underthings
For some nuance
Of decency and
Self respect
Left
That's what
Blouses are
For with
Numerous
Extra buttons
Sewn on the
Underside
to hide
The scars
of the
best-kept
secret
Thing of all
Still
Beating
Despite
Relentless
Beatings.

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