Eyeliner

 

Eyeliner

The hallway frames the front door of my home.

Guarding me from well wishers, I need to be alone.

Seasons, styles or Saturdays, there is always eyeliner,

bold black wings from cut price to designer.

I woke the other day, robbed of my right hand.

Sudden stolen senses are hard to understand.

War paint frames my face, I’m ready for the world.

Without eyeliner, I look a different girl.

Blurred vision, a thousand texts becoming unbearable.

In her telephone voice, she tells me I ‘look terrible’

Healing time and patience all fall into place,

I’m faking being well with eyeliner on my face.

Samantha Henthorn copyright 2015.

Photo courtesy and owned by my beautiful daughter.

I love eyeliner, if my hands were working, I would be able to put it on like the photo above. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, and it was accepted by the editor of MSmatters magazine, as yet they have not put it in print (even though they promised me it would be in the spring edition). Instead of spending time e-mailing them to chase it up, I’ve decided to blog it. The poem did appear in the Bury adult education/libraries anthology and exhibition last year, of which I was most proud.

Happy Wednesday, Samantha