a cracked lipstick kiss
tastes more than pink,
like spat cherry pips
staining curtains and carpet.
a scratched cheek,
bloodshot eyes from
not enough sleep,
a heart that is hot
with too many beats.
have you ever noticed veins
splitting the skin
can resemble rivers of life
or cracks in a wall,
contingent on how
open eyes meet them.
and red wine can drip sweetness
or claw at the throat,
the colour of that lipstick,
fervent as a rose
or a silent scream,
Pandora’s box concealed
behind those lips
you want to kiss, be careful.
consider the lipstick cracks
a fracture in the mask,
watch for the warning
to keep your closed eyes
shut, but wide
open.
Words by Lauren Rawlings
Artwork by Monique Coetzee
This piece was originally published in Edition 28
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