spiders pass out at 3000 ft.

i don’t reapply my red lipstick.

i let it smear off my lips as the night smears away the thought of what once was

i forget to take photos of myself after spending an hour gettin' pretty

i soak it up and forget the beauty that lies under my soft skin

i don’t reapply my red lipstick.

my laugh is loud and my voice is deep

my legs stand tall and my eyes don’t shake

my words are true and my heart is staked

i’m not delicate like a flower

i have airport jeans and my hair ain’t sleek

i had a pilot once make a face at me

oil on my hands and then to my jeans

“no cleanin up?”

he asked

i thought of laughing but i didn’t

i don’t reapply my red lipstick

spiders in 737YP and blue patched seats

sweat stains when a landing feels complete

wild hair and a loud laugh

oil-stained jeans and scuffed-up white sneaks

i don’t reapply my red lipstick.

i forget to sit and look pretty

i curse too much and i say what i mean.

but the sky doesn’t judge ya,

not when you speak kind

my lipstick ain’t pretty but my words are

pilot and poet

that got no time to clean on up.