My Red Lipstick Mourns

My Red Lipstick Mourns

My red lipstick mourns,
huddled in her drawer, 
as I mourn, too,
bare-lipped behind my mask.

Now – I groom for “meetings”,
my red lipstick appears,
digitally
trying to represent who I was.

I yearn for, mourn for,
the times I touched, hugged,
and groomed for,
locked away now,

like my red lipstick.