A violence of lipstick

    On Siamese twins, joined at the head.

Staring forever into the eyes

    Of someone I don't trust to love me,

Breathing second-hand air,

    I wish that I never was there.

Who needs a mirror

    When you've got yourself right in your face?

I have four arms to choose from

    And two hearts that beat in illiterate syncopation,

Yet never a thought to console me,

    Or a whispered word that doesn't steal my life.

A lipstick of violence

   On Siamese twins joined at the head,

Separated now by a knife,

    A part of me died and I don't know why,

My view is unhindered but all that I see

    Is missing something essential that used to be me.

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If you can continue the poem that'd be fantastic. Or add another poem with a similar theme perhaps: losing something that you maybe didn't realise was a part of your identity.

updated Nov 30 '08 by Bill_Hartzia