Ritual
My end of the day ritual
I look into the mirror
I see myself
I observe

My hand grasps a cotton ball
More flat disk than ball
I pour a fluid onto the cotton disk
Oil-watery liquid that never mixes well
Damp disk in hand, I look into the mirror
I see myself
I observe

I watch my hand guide the cotton
Tracing the contours of my face
My skin touched by this strange substance
I see myself
I observe

Ritual
My end of the day ritual
To clean, to remove, to take away the day
I see my self
I observe

Some days are long
Some days are too short
Some days are sad
And some are filled with joy
I see myself
I observe

The cotton colored whiteness is lost
Make-up colors appear
Commercial skin colors adhere to the cotton pad
I see myself
I observe

Artificial skin colors now take on different shades
Darker shades
Becoming greyer
Becoming muddier

Shades of pastels become the color of dirt
I see myself
I observe

The cotton speaks
No, that is not all that you see
Look carefully, look closer
I see myself
I observe

The cotton collects my make up
The cotton collects my dead cells

Particles of dust
Particles of smog
Particles of pollution
All of this pollution collected on my skin

Ritual
My end of the day ritual
The cotton disk reminds me
That I live in the world
And that the world lives in me
And on me