Fake Up
Her mascara runs down her chin
Isn't it the simplest thing?
Her lips left behind, bright coral on a napkin
It arouses the curiosity of those who come across it
Doesn't it make you wonder
How a stray little thing
Can get blown out of her purse
Into the wind
And the fool who captures it
Will wonder days on end
Over what is so meaningless
Isn't it the simplest thing?
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