Lipstick

lipstick,

creamy and rich,

bursting with colour,

reds, oranges, pinks and nudes,

but no one mentions the black.

 

I watch it glide,

Across my lips,

Transforming pink,

To a deep dark black,

I smile a smile,

Belonging to me,

A black lipsticked smile,

Of a boy playing with fire.

 

Who says lipstick belongs to women?

Men have lips and so do boys,

Women cross dress all the time,

Why can’t we?

 

 

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Atop Cypress

Atop Cypress,

I feel free,

Reckless and speedy,

More dangerous than I ever will be,

The sun shining above,

The world speeding away,

I am only a beginner,

Yet,

I feel what the experts feel.

 

Atop Cypress,

The rain turns to snow,

Winds blowing hard,

A frozen desert in the February Air,

Ice shards falling,

Against the ski-lifts,

As they tumble in their day,

Slower than ever.

 

Atop Cypress,

And the world below,

Two different worlds,

One without snow,

One without wonder,

And white powder,

One without the speed of an flat Ski.

 

Atop Cypress,

All of these things are true,

A wonder of a mountain,

Unlike no other,

Come visit the slopes,

Its not far away,

Only in Vancouver,

Located in Canada.

 

Atop Cypress

-Henri Darkner