dear beauty,
red powder tickles my cheeks as i applied the chemicals to my empty layers—coating the white snow with colors of bloodied roses and painted skies. my feet ached as the heels clutched on—tapping against the concrete floor. lipstick on skinny lips. eyebrows plucked, nails sharpened, eyelashes curled, beauty perfected. this is the little girl with the teddy bear stuffed to the back of the closet.

“are you ready?”

“in a second. perfume.”

                                                               yours truly,
                                                               the ability to believe that one’s
                                                               appearance can be perfected
                                                                through