Lipstick Stain Is A Work Of Art Lyrics の小説・ストーリー

Makeup is not a mask. Makeup is art. Makeup is Passion. Makeup is an expression. I found the quote to be true when my eyes fell on the mirror, and I gawked at the girl staring back. Her hair was swept up in a messy ballerina bun with curls falling around her round face, and her makeup was immaculately perfect. Smokey eyeshadow under freshly waxed eyebrows, made the baby blue in her eyes pop like a blue lagoon in a dark cave, and light pink lipstick adorned her lips in complement to the blush on her cheeks.

The lipstick is a dark burgundy, and makes her lips look all too tempting. “This is a lip stain; it won’t come off easily once it’s dry. So, it’s not going to need reapplying if you want to be all kissy, kissy at some point.” Eliza gives Charlie a reproachful look, “What, you’ve been very touchy feely with them since I turned up. I expect a little bit of PDA from you guys.” Kai looks confused, and Charlie rolls her eyes. “Public Displays of Affection, PDA.” He blinks and smirks rubbing the back of his neck,

My makeup artist grumbles, making us laugh. Honestly, I knew it was just a matter of time, before this woman cracks. Honestly, Gabriel has been a pain in the ass for the last hour, complaining about my makeup and kissing me at intervals. " Well, maybe you shouldn't apply such attractive colors" He teases, making her all the more angry. " Sorry" I laugh, as she carefully takes off my lipstick, and applies dark red. " What do you think of this one?" I ask " Let me take a closer look" He says, as he tries to kiss me again

Well, it's a bit awkward to say she's overtime when the clock hasn't hit 8 PM yet. Anyway, that scaredy cat boy was willing to hide in the toilet to prank Kate. 'She must be surprised tonight as she doesn't imagine I'm still here. Her surprised expression must be adorable too, haha.' Havie blushed. It was like that whenever he thought of Kate. That woman never fails to give him butterflies. After waiting for thirty minutes, just before the watch hit 8 PM, Kate appeared in the basement area. Havie noticed that Kate is putting purple lipstick on her lips, unlike the usual soft color she put on. She sometimes does that. But every time she do that, he feels bothered.

~Luna I fully applied the makeup, each stroke of the brush perfect, precise like a painter sealing their masterpiece. My reflection in the mirror smiled back at me, untouchable. I tilted my head, letting the light catch the shimmer on my cheekbones. Beautiful. Almost disarmingly so. But beauty was a weapon, and today, I planned to use it. Leaning closer to the mirror, I traced the curve of my lips with the deep crimson lipstick, slow and deliberate. The color looked like power. Like blood.

I murmur in the solace of my thoughts, the weight of my aspirations and the constraints of my reality creating a symphony of conflicted emotions within me. My fingers, stained with the vivid red of my lipstick, inadvertently meet with a sharp edge, and a pang of unexpected pain surges through me as my nail inadvertently cuts into my lip. The sensation is almost poetic, a stark reminder that even the simplest actions can bear unexpected consequences. Blood mingles with the crimson of my lipstick, and I can't help but feel that this moment is emblematic of the struggle that defines my existence – a delicate dance between pursuing my desires and encountering the unforeseen obstacles that arise.

The violinists have stopped playing our song long ago, but the melody still hums inside my chest. My makeup is supposed to make me feel beautiful. Dewy skin, rose lips, soft shimmer on my eyelids, everything the way he likes. The artist said I looked like a dream. I did. Until the dream ended. Now, the blush on my cheeks is just leftover hope, my mascara has drowned in tears, and the lipstick that once promised forever is nothing but a blurred memory. Every stroke of perfection is melting down my face like my plans, my faith, my composure. I wanted him to see me radiant. Instead, I’m here, smudged, trembling, and waiting for someone who is nowhere to be found.

Beauty spills from brush to frame, Every hue a whispered name. Recreating peace in stride, Art’s where wealth and wonder hide. To walk with paint, the dreamer’s call, A gallery’s grace for one and all. Chorus: Collectors glide, their wallets gleam, Chasing strokes of every dream. Food exquisite, voices blend, A night of paint that never ends. Outro: Wolf eyes glint, the hunger stays, Beneath the glow of art’s bright blaze. Step by step, we chase the scene,

Selene picked up a tube of lipstick and twisted it open, revealing a deep shade of crimson. “Lipstick is more than just makeup,” she said, leaning down to apply it to my lips. “It’s a weapon. A signal. A declaration.” I remained still as she painted my lips, the color standing out starkly against my skin. She stepped back. “There. Now look at yourself.” I did. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t see a broken girl. I saw something else—someone else. A woman who was learning how to play the game.

You have to. I grabbed my makeup brush, dusting powder across my face as I stared at my own reflection. My eyes looked too wide, my lips too tight. I needed to calm down. But how could I? This wasn’t just some party—I was setting a trap. A dangerous one. I reached for my lipstick, twisting it up with shaky fingers. Cherry Red. Bold. Attention-grabbing. The kind of color that made men stop and stare. I glided it over my lips, pressing them together, watching how the color deepened.