I forgot the lipstick—  
  left it lounging on the counter  
  some shade of “Behave” or “Desire”  
  that never quite fit  
  the curve of my mouth anyway.

Didn’t blot, didn’t gloss,  
  didn’t paint myself  
  into the version of me  
  you wanted to kiss  
  or command.

I forgot the lipstick—  
  replaced it for natural  
  truth, grit,  
  the kind of beauty  
  you can’t wipe off my face.

They said I forgot it—  
  no,  
  I chose  
  to show up  
  exactly like this.