Protect Me

I have been too close to the fire,
singeing my black-already hair.
The ash blends perfectly into
my glossy, thick tresses.

My tears have not washed away
the soot from my face.
If anyone asks,
I'll tell them I smeared
my mascara.

They cannot see the grit that lies underneath
my painted fingernails.

Only you know that I wasn't
at the beauty parlor today,
but instead,
fighting fires, saving what I could.

I wish you had prepared a bath for me,
so I could wash the ash from my hair and reapply
my makeup.

But you never knew it was you
who prepared me for tomorrow.