So here we are.
Today’s Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo) entry:
at the drugstore
what the hell is all of this
all up and down the aisle
I simply want a crimson stick
to paint a sexy smile
I do not need a billion brands
with sixty shades apiece
I do not need a billion balms
each week a new release
I do not need a fancy name
like “faux” or “forge ahead”
or “bloom” or “bliss” or “killer’s kiss”
I just want freaking red
The end.
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.
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