Pride

She purses her eyelids
In contorted vain
Of perfect truths-
And deviant reason;

A coil of burning paper-
Amid amaranthine lips
Streaks of dancing smoke
And smiles of stiffened narcissism

Another wasted eyelash
Or thread of carbon soot-
And streaks of carnauba
to form her torpid smile;

Perfumed fingers
And dainty wrists
Those glistening rocks
An efflux of sarcasm; sneer;

Another ostentatious laugh
A coughing huddle
And the tossing of raven curls-
that ardent smell of pride.

A dying mirror...
And yet, that hairbrush, that eyeshadow;