Why do you want to be human?
Asked the lipstick’s Muse.
Their conscience is like a cochlear implant
They are glued to work
For fun, they kick a leather ball or fornicate
Lust makes them jig like a fish on a bent hook
Whereas you are a slider, a glider
Slipping out from your glamorous metal sheath
To smear their lips like sweet fudge, melting
Paste can shine the dirtiest brass
Makeup is about identity, you were carefully christened.
You were not named Whipped Caviar
Dissolved in Dreams,
Pinky Nude Sinner
Or Catfight
Truffle Tease….that suits you to a T.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem