Amschely Dreams

 —and I remember the day we crossed paths: your auburn hair rustling out of your russet beret, gently infalling upon your lunar face and stardust cheeks; your fingers shyly unfurling like spring's daffodils, I wonder how such small fingers could rake clean my subnivean scarlet fears, how such calm countenace could flicker me. That day, like a leaf was I falling in to your tender hands.

Even without Maybelline's divine wine your lips are heavenly ruby still. No more value-drop yourself. No more mock aesthetics. No more cosmetics. Drop 'em prosthetics. When being a natural beauty gets hard, smile. Smile for me. Smile with me. I've got a lifetime to lip-gloss you and many more lives to cherry you.