My hair
Usually lank
Is now suggestive
A knot that teeters
Precariously
And whispers around my ears.
The bra that cost me an arm and a leg
Forces my modest share
To the very edge of decency,
And a touch of colour
Makes downcast eyes
Into beacons,
Brazen - like.
Now,
The lipstick glides
Hopefully,
A blood red heart
Painted
Onto tired edges.
We newly - divorced ladies need all the help we can get.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem