The Lost Light

Sometimes I feel like I'm living two lives at once.
In one I smile, paint my lips with red lipstick, create, say "everything is fine", and burn with my art.
In the other, I'm silent, tired, crumbling like fragile ashes.
Both are real. But they never appear at the same time.
I no longer hide my other half in the shadows.
Even if she's tired, with faded mascara and heavy eyes but there's beauty in her, too.
She reminds me that even in the embers of the soul there is still fire and light.