Mama always told me if I wanted a husband I could never leave the house with out lipstick
I resented her, all the things wrong with the world and somehow the answer was red lipstick
Late to a mans interview, paralyzed, realizing you are not the prettiest one waiting for approval
Don't worry, gracefully flee to a shaded corner, comb your hair back and apply your rose lipstick
Each night I stare at the news, suddenly solemn, exhausted by the repeating patterns of mortality.
Turn to my wine, I sob, noticing my only glass stole a copy of my lips, echoed in ruby lipstick.
Face to face with truth, repeating: I am worth more than self implemented solitary confinement,
Trust in ones own is the only way to break free, maybe I'll get out, better find my cherry lipstick.
Walking down the city street silently passing masked houses locked into hiding private tragedies
Night rings a relief, the world is hidden, yet street lamps reveal, best to still wear scarlet lipstick.
Sprinting through life, unconsciously passing trees that judged a competition I had not entered
Seeing rebellion in my eyes, one says, "My darling Abigail, don't forget the oxblood lipstick"
Abigail Bollentin is a freshman at the University of Albany. She intends to major in Psychology and is yet to decide on a minor. It was not until college that Abby found her passion for writing. She is humbled and honored to be able to share her poem with a wider audience.