Cherry chapstick coats
my stomach lining,
so my insides are as pink
as my lips, and not
the red of the
blood that I suck down –
when a smile splits the skin.
I eat my weight in lipstick
licking my lips and
spilling pinks and reds
down my esophagus until
all I am is a
melting tube of wax.
My eyes leak gloss;
my mucus shimmers;
my blood sticks to my veins;
anything to cover the
pale white that wraps
around empty words
and chipped teeth.
--Dawn P., Adult