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  • Today I wore red lipstick, a vibrant matte, nearly-chalky red that I bought from Macy's a couple weeks ago. It nearly made my lips skid together like rubber sneakers on linoleum floors. The floors that, in school, you could rub your rubber soles, focused and sure, fast enough to erase a black skid mark as easily as you could make one. Sometimes I think of love that way, wishing that my heart was as easily painted and whitewashed as skid marks on the floor.

    Today as I stand waiting for the 4 train at Astor Place, I think of all the times I've worn red lipstick. I could probably count them on my two hands. Each time this gesture meant something new, particularly those crushing of tragic desperation when I was so willing and ready to tempt a man with vibrant lips; When love felt so fresh and possible, worth the rocky back-and-forth dance of the vibrant peacock - all for romance.

    Today I dance to my own tune, walking a tightrope of the imagination and think of all the space in my heart now. Open and ready for the freshness of something natural. The spark worth smiling at.

    It's always worth it.
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