Wipe mascara from eye with Vitamin E oil from last gasp sale at Big Lots. Stare long and hard at the face. Subtract years although this eyebrow lifts naturally at the scent of memory. That face-yours. The one a man will slip a quarter into Sinatra and then begin to sing (you wish). The real you (for the first time today) The face you must fall in love with (with or without muscles but thinking foxy mighty might) clean in the now now. Real enough to shake off ordinary. The tripped down the aisle. The baby with no name. Face, everything has been written. The one you see now, is the one to love.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Nov 2014 16:58:08 +0000