Continuity

Superficial

The splendor of the night seems tainted 

with the truth of the day,

Where the rays of the sun shine brilliant, 

glistening over a million flaws.

The diamonds that glimmer at your neck 

under the city lights

Are drab in the daylight, covered with the ashes 

of last night's dreams.

There is a layer of grit that covers 

the silk cushions where you lay your head,

It smells like cigarette smoke, cheap hairspray, 

and last night's expectations.

Sunglasses can't hide the hangover in your eyes 

from too many shots of regret

and a few stale promises. 

There is no lipstick red enough to cover 

the pallor of long-dead smiles,

No corset tight enough to give shape 

to drooping potential.

The high heels you wear could reach 

all the way to the penthouse, 

and still do nothing to elongate your character. 

The bartender convinced you that 

an ounce of beauty, a smidgen of charm, 

well shaken and chilled with a little luck 

would transform you 

from cheap vodka into a luxury cocktail.

So you sipped away on lies and gambled 

the price of your happiness only to realize

that the audience watching you 

was both deaf and blind.

And now, standing here, seeing where your mascara 

has settled into your mistakes 

In the reflection of the taxi window 

that's already driving away,

The sun burns hot on your skin 

that's already scarlet with self-hate,

So you turn back to the shadows and hide 

with the beauty of something completely fake.