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?