Lipstick-Stained Dreams

a poem

[In front of a mirror] 

	She still has dewdrops on her cheeks
		she takes a palette in her left hand
				a brush in her right
	As she paints, 
		it seems she is caressing her own face

I watch 
	attentively 
wondering how she knows 
	what to draw upon 
	what to leave as is 

		the lines,
		the shadows…
I’m a witness of a subtle transformation

	She is an artist,
		a muse,
	her own creation 

[She walks away] 

I want to make the world better,
or at least, 
create one where she can be free.