A shade of lipstick vaguely echoed
The shouts of each rose petal
As they were pulled apart—harrowed
by the actions of a woman in a fit of rage—as it was being smeared on the cold metal.
Liar written across the window pane
In swirling loops of the same shade,
hid the way the woman had blushed,
and screamed,
And the shade of the dress in which she swayed with her lover, now lay scattered around her in memories and items
She longed to send away.
In a bag she tucked away those memories, and
like a sack of kittens tossed in a river,
She would drown out her old life.
