Lips

Here I am, Saturday night, sober (still/again - sigh), listening to the Cure, massive candles (black and purple) the only source of light apart from this screen - which is turned down low, writing a long paragraph about lips. Not like lips for kissing but for words. And I suppose a little bit for kissing too.

I do look at lips when people speak. I don't like George Clooney's mouth for instance. He's got thin lips. But I don't like full lips either and there's nothing more disgusting than wet lips. But of course our mouths say so much about us and our feelings.

I don't like my lips. They're uneven. Makes it hard to use lipstick. Gloss is fine, but when you use lipstick you need good definition. Wearing that plum colored lipstick to the Halloween Ball in 2010 was quite freaky actually, but the show had to go on.

I only have one picture in my apartment with people in it - me and, of course - who else? I love that picture of us. It's in front of me on my desk. You can only see the more even side of my mouth and my eyebrows look amazing. As does he, and his mouth and his cupid's bow. Perfect lips. "Kiss me kiss me kiss me" - the Cure.

It's interesting how intimate lips are even though they are on the outside and on constant display for the world to see.

But I wonder what else I can write about M's lips and if B would really be so fascinated by her mouth - or is it just me? This is where writing becomes tricky - just because I all of sudden think this is a great way to bring out her character doesn't mean it works on the page. Time well tell. As will my critics.

I need my lips to meet with some burning alcohol - thank fuck I'll be having at least one cocktail tomorrow. I will have to make sure it's the most potent one on the menu.