Cant sleep, have a poem

Your mouth is not red when you take your gender off.
You are shell pink- gentle but tough, hard around soft.

Make up, making up, made up: words for reconciling what is real with what could be.
I might be imaginary; you might like that better.

I have learned how to change clothes, like lipstick stains wiped away.
Not without joy do we apply the artistry of our faces.
Not without joy do we remove the mask.

Links and a gratitude

I woke up this morning and my joints did not hurt for the first time in weeks. *deep breath*

Links from this week behind the cut.
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