She painted her face with make up, putting on the mask that she had become used to wearing through years of practice. The same as she always did, wasn’t it great she thought. This was ritual and it couldn’t be upset. She forgot about him and where she had left his love, she stood alone, looking in the mirror, getting ready to greet the future. A light began to shine within her breast.
She painted her face with care, A practiced mask she’d always wear. Years of ritual, well-rehearsed, A comfort found, a daily verse.
Wasn’t it great, she thought, each day, In this ritual, she’d find her way. A sacred act, routine, precise, Unchanging, calm, a small device.
She let his love slip from her mind, In solitude, her peace she’d find. Alone before the mirror’s gleam, Preparing for a future dream.
In her chest, a light did start, A glow that warmed her tender heart. With every stroke, a spark anew, A beacon bright, a life in view.
