By: DJ Hopson
She kisses her hands
on the back and in the middle to be exact.
The outline and color of her lips
seem to bleed into her skin.
She takes a long moment to admire
the masterpiece she just created.
With a surge of joy
she prances to each of her companions
to show them her art.
All of whom she shows remain stoic,
eyes positioned forward with drug induced smiles.
It doesn’t matter how much she cries
or rubs her hand under their noses.
Their noses don’t smell.
Giving up, she marches away
angry at the heavens for cursing her,
condemning her to such company.
Who knew stuffed bears could be so boring.
