Life is....Edited

She sips the bitter coffee, black
resigned, tucking the complaint away
saves it for a better day,
Inhales, and holds a tarry breath
inspects her nails, faces herself
applys her face, lips a crimson line
eyes unpainted, tell of time
spent in blue rooms, badly lit
random notes, jazz?, or blues,
or some other shit
hair is teased and pinned with gripps.

It's lunchtime, she begins her day
gin and tonic, a players light,
a dress rehearsal for today
she prepares herself to play the night.