Lady Vanity

Photo by Eugenia Maximova on Unsplash
Famed is her beauty but what good
Is beauty when trapped in a mirror?
The paint on her lips as red as blood,
She draws nearer.
She touches finger to rose-dusted cheek
and grazes porcelain skin,
In finest tones she can speak
But no beauty within.
A clamp around her lashes
On her lids unnatural hues
And on her pulse points there’s lashings
Of Chanel, overused.
Love is the enemy of a sculpted face
Its touch simply too strong
For a brittle mind to embrace
For too long.

So she sits and stares…
The fanatical fairest of them all
With hourglass heart and eyes of pearl.
The mirror mirror on the wall
A cold replication of a vainglorious girl.



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