I Am Your Compact

She looked at me and smiled.

Is it possible for a compact case

to fall in love?

I gazed at her total beauty.

“You look awesome, dear.” I could
feel her body heat as she drew me
near to her face. I longed to kiss
her soft red lips. Eyes closed now,
might I steal a tender — she rubs
her eye shadow as I gaze at her
hair and ears.

Still a kiss is a kiss.

She closes the lid and walks away
from the dresser. Darkness.

I have watched, as a youth, you
fumbled through your Mom’s purse until
like magic, precious grubby little
fingers seized me.

Mom’s treasured possession, again,
for the day – yours.

I’m excited, as I imagine our day
together. you – unlike your mom,
gratefully leave me open.

This allows me to view the world
outside, with the great sky, radiant
and so blue; sunshine so gallantly
yellow-white and true.

If I could escape forever into the
world beyond, who might choose me as
their betrothed, as near to face, as
any loved one;

I shudder to think of places I might
end, with mirror cracked, powder
gone – except for the edges; my
usefulness; is over I am quite done.

A sudden lurch frees me from my dismal
imaginative wade thru misery; my
usefulness far from over as my mistress
enjoys her beauty and finery.

Should this not be, as I see most
often curvaceous lips, turned into
playful puckers; as we prepare to jaunt
into the city – a place of excitement
and fun or for some, a place where we
intrigued the truckers.

I have heard, but not witnessed where
great Queens hold me in high regard,
as even the dollar store sells my kin.
I am again one in all who enjoys such
beauty; my rewards are measured in your
use of me to perform my duty.

Sights I often see, such marvels of
beauty, lips so beautiful and in
multitudes of colors, hues and stuff,
from sensuous gloss to stark black
semi-gloss cuties;

so much of what I am ensured success,
facing a world where some actually
gauge looks as a measure, should
release the old paradigm of how the
World measures beauty.

Only those of limited human scope
would allow a panel to exercise
judgments of a woman’s beauty – I know
where from her beauty begins from the
very moment when she dons the mantle
of womanhood, thus it is, and ever shall be.

Her swell of her face to where her
mouth – matters not if her lips are
thin or full, soft not firm, or whether
natural swell towards the smile, or the
right events must actuate upturned beauty.
This will generate the path to true beauty.

Pursed or slightly parted desirous in their
element, rain – moist, tender and soft;
snow – dry, mostly turned in and sheltered,
or possessing a gentle blue hue.

Dampened by pool, pond, lake or ocean you
face and mouth are works of serene beauty.

My task is to show you, and in turn help you
realize the honor of your true attractiveness
and the reality of what you may become,
or of who you are.