My hands are cold,
Don’t worry about reaching for them.
Warmth is in my lipstick, my colours.
When we are almost something,
Or are we already that fact?
This is safe for me, safety in numbers,
The creatives are bright.
Quick the bell rings, and my laughter peels out.
These friends are not blanched.
We make up for distance with time.
You think you know what we are?
Unsung heroes of our tribe.
Covered in the ink of our exploits.
We learn, chuckle, and transcend age.
Among other traits.
Holding in your jealousy will only make you greener.
Join us, and you can be any colour you like.
Copyright © 2019 Thinkingmoon.com – All rights reserved