Humor

I Feel Used and Played With

And I like it this way

Siren Song. That’s my name. You found me at a Mac store in 2017 on the heels of a heartbreak.

“Pick me! You know you want me.”

Words spoken in only the way a lipstick can: the sheen of color as the store lights hit me just so. The whisper of hope in the cylinder shape of my manufactured perfection.

Finally, your hand reached for me. Your fingertips damp with desire.

I’d stood on that shelf for hours, waiting for you to hold me. I could feel your longing to swipe my crimson sheen across your lips.

You acted cool and aloof when the saleswoman asked if you wanted to sample me. But I could see your pupils dilate like a tiger for meat when you looked at me.

We both knew I belonged on your lips. I was your gateway to self-esteem and self-worth. Without me, all you would see was the reminder that your ex cheated on you, your pale lips akin to leftover deli meat.

And when we left the store, I could taste the giddy strength of me on your lips, the belief that we were one.

Our Love Affair

Years later, you still keep me close. I am your go-to for desire and spice.💄

But I have a confession: I resent the times you stop taking me out. I want to be used and played with on all kinds of days, not just the sexy ones. I am Siren Song and want to caress your lips on elastic waistband days and greasy-hair-in-a-bun days too!

I dread those times you are comfortable in a relationship.

Comfortable, you no longer need me. No, you reach right into your makeup bag for Shimmer Nude — a meh color sans any personality.

I want to be used and played with whether you are sporting Spanx or socks. I crave you needing me to make yourself feel good.

Enough of this nonsense of beauty deriving from the inside out.

Beauty arrives with me — only me. I — Siren Song — am the only path to self-love.

I am the one who made you feel good about yourself after all the breakups; I am the one who showed you what matters is how you look, not feel.

Look, I’m even open to you dabbing me on your cheeks. So long as you remember to take me out, play with me, USE me.

I’m still in my prime, the top of my stick still angled like a perfect ski slope.

So what are you waiting for, my love? I can’t age if you don’t use me. USE me. Let me help you forget your worries and troubles. Hide from reality with a coat of me.

The above was inspired by Liberty Forrest, Author for her clever writing prompt: How do you think it feels to be a tube of lipstick? Thank you for the fun prompt, Liberty Forrest, Author