I write my letters in lipstick.
It flows very well.
The colour slides over the page - it is almost sensual.
As the letters grow, you can pretend you’re writing to a lover,
Not just your grandmother.
It appears very bright.
The paintbrush flicks over the paper - it is almost artistic.
As the colour spreads, you can pretend you’re creating a work of art,
Not just a note of thanks.
It looks very striking.
The words cut over the white - it is almost barbaric.
As the page fills, you can pretend you’re writing in blood,
Not just cosmetics.
I write my letters in lipstick.
Shh. Pretend you're talking to someone else. Ok? Pretend you're looking somewhere else. Alright? Pretend you don't realize I'm talking to you. Understand?
There's a girl standing behind you - shh, don't look! She's not supposed to know I'm talking about her. Has she noticed..? No. Ok, good. Well, that girl - she has this short brown hair. It was only cut a couple of weeks ago. Actually, only last week, in fact. She's still slightly self conscious about it, I think. Worried she looks like a boy. She blatantly doesn't. Does she? Sneak a quick peek. Only a quick one! She's too pretty isn't she? Anyway. That girl. She doesn't realize how special she is. Ok, so she doesn't seem that out of the ordinary. You only have to look at her to realize that - don't look again! She'll notice. Jeez, you're useless at being sly. She's shorter than alot of other girls. She never wears outlandish clothes or anything, but then... she's the kinda girl guys look twice at. As if they've realized they've missed noticing something different, and need to check to be sure it wasn't something important.
She funny as hell. Let me give you an example. One day in town, waiting for a friend, she noticed this guy opposite who was smoking his ciggarette like this:
*Drag* Eyes flit to left, right. Hold cig behind back. Eyes flit to left, right, breathe out. Check to the right again. *Drag* Eyes flit. Hide cig. Breathe out, slow, slow, gentle. *Drag* etc. This girl - take another look, quick, while she's not concentrating on us. That girl, she had these candy sticks, the ones we used to get as kids (bit of reliving the childhood, there) and she gets one out and leans against the pillar and goes: *Drag* Eyes flit left, right. Hold candy behind back. Eyes flit left, right, breathe out. Check to the right again. *Drag* Eyes flit. Hide candy. Breathe out, slow, slow, gentle... Until the guy noticed us and twigged what we were doing, and dropped his ciggaette and faked like he hadn't realized. That's what that girl's like. All over.
Short. Brown haired. Bet you didn't know all that, huh? She's special that girl. Bet you also didn't know she is one in three of people who can make me laugh so much I cry. And those two people don't really count that much any more. Which is partly why I cry, now... Ahem, anyway. Go talk to her. Go on. I'll pretend like I don't even know you, if you like. What, too shy? Shame. I can call her over - no? Ok, ok. Keep your hair on. Take another look at her. Just one more. See? See that smile. She's knows you're looking.
Go talk to her. Not now? Feeling self concious, huh? Fair enough. But if you see her again. If you see her in the street. If she goes past you with her friends, or with those guys she sometimes hangs out with, put out one hand and touch her arm. Introduce yourself. She won't think you're weird. And who knows? Maybe you'll have gained the friendship of someone special. Just remember what I said. She likes to laugh.
I'll leave you now. Just remember what I said.
And try writing in lipstick once in a while. You never know what might end up on the page...