Quick fresh
application of lipstick
that you forget
as you greet me
with a slow slow kiss
our lips
stuck together
glued to each other
by Femme Fatale Red
& when
we part
I too now wearing
the very same lipstick.
You tell me oh you
could fancy me
made up so
&...make me up even further.
I look like
a right tart.
You laugh.
A drunken geezer
hollers at us.
“Doin’ any business love? ”
I tell him to:
“F**k off! ”
We travel home
arm in arm.
I can’t wait
to have a bubble bath
& take
my make up off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The end of the day...and the mask comes off...and the real me...steps out...