Lipstick Stained Crusade Poem by Hunter James

You know, I love the smell of your face. The clean, the powder, the crisp of spring
I think of it sometimes, as tonight.
When I need a hand, repairing myself in the shadows and the cigarette smoke
Do you
Ever repair yourself?
With makeup and wine?
You look that way sometimes,
In my memory
As it fades
In my own lipstick stained crusade
And drunken flight
Your reflection content in the murky goon
Don't grow agitated, the furrow in your thin brow is my fault only
I still love the smell of your face.