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Thursday, 2 December 2010

The Make-up Artist

The make-up artist stares at the model's face and tries to
Figure the complexities of what's going on within her
With her hair tied back and her eyes half-glazed
She can't look away from the vanity mirror
But she's impatient, starts complaining he ain't painting her face fast enough
Says he's procrastinating, it's her time he's wasting, but the things she's saying only serve to make him
Give up
And she don't break her own stare the whole time she speaks
She's still speaking when the make-up artist packs up his brushes and leaves

He never really fit in on the make-up artist circuit
Got his qualifications in the evenings out of Birkbeck
Didn't drop out of some fine art degree in the city
Thought it'd be easy to get laid just tell a pretty girl she's pretty
But it's the pretty ones that get millions of compliments and ain't eyeing-up the help
And they're rich enough, with skins white as doves and lips red as blood, to trick into love
Somebody else
So he told the biggest lie he'd ever told
To the ugliest girl he could find
And then he wasn't alone

1 comment:

  1. Make up artist gave up on pretty girls?
    Should have told the pretty ones that they were ugly. HA!
    Well written.