AVON CALLING
1980's Council Estate — Moulded
There is something about lipstick
that’s already been worn before.
You would only ever do this with a family member,
possibly a friend.
But that moment—
when you put the lipstick to your lips,
the way is made,
the use has been moulded,
set and shaped,
moulded over time—
unlike oil and water—
my mum’s lipstick.
It just didn’t fit my lips.
How could it,
as mine didn’t fit hers.
We were not cut from the same cloth.
The lipstick: a pillar, an arrowhead — never mine.
It didn’t fit.
Just like my mum never fit.
Not all mum's fit jigsaw pieces.
We don’t all fit.
There was no way it could become mine.
There was no way I could become
the person that would fit those lips.
Maybe it was my earliest reconciliation—
realisation—
that I couldn’t be what she wanted me to be.
I couldn’t be moulded
in what she wanted me to be.
I just wasn’t
what she wanted to be.

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