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The appearance of my penciled outline

The appearance of my penciled outline

blearily reflected in the upstairs bathroom mirror,

Taken in by weary eyes, 

almost entirely covered by heavy eyelids,

not welcoming of the yellow,

early morning light.

I spend my first moments of the day's awareness

coloring in the outlines

with the promised beauty of the paints

that fill my unzipped makeup bag.

Carefully shading the man made image of me,

until my fingerprint is the only unaltered mark

I have to leave.

As I step away from the biased reflection 

of my daily canvas,

I pay no mind to the work that piles beneath it.

It is not until the daylight's faded,

and my morning art is smeared within a crumpled cloth

lying atop the trash heap,

that I am reminded


Appearance is only temporary. 

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