The Circus Performer

Red lips, red hair,

They always see me.

Always visible,

Never verified.


Time never valued my face.

I, never valued my time.

A corrected relationship,

We drafted a contract;

Time, he gives me gasps, jewels, feathers, blinding illumination, ridiculous laughter.

I, leave time alone.

I don’t attempt to fool him;

The lion is always fed.


When I smile they all love me, they love those red lips.

A new crowd!

A new love.

Time will not let me mother my children for long.


Our relationship; lavish and empty.

He showers me in rainbow rain, dries my skin with the spotlights.

He’ll never care to remove the stains.


My red lipstick, the true leading lady.

When I remove her from my lips, put her into bed.

I vanish until she wakes.

My lips are put back in their box, no one will ever see their burgundy bruises.


The tent is fragile,

The colours; ghastly.

Red, they sure love red.

And white, they despise it.

I cry.

Red is our poison.


My lipstick is sure to run out,

My allure is already fading.

So bruised, my lips cannot harbour a shout,

My performance is no longer entertaining.


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