Girls take so long to get ready.
We hear them say, seemingly
Unaware of how each minute unfolds.

With mascara wands lifted, 
Highlighter aglow,
Laughter separates swipes of gloss—
A chorus of shared secrets and dreams.
Skin becomes a canvas,
Layering product upon perfect imperfection, 
Until eyes gleam with possibility
And smiles settle, soft and sure.

The rhythm is innate—
A pulse behind music we barely hear.
Our mothers, our sisters, our friends
Sing a song we’ll love tonight but forget tomorrow, 
Telling us:
This, too, is a way to know yourself.

We trade space for truth,
Lending brushes and borrowed tops,
Knowing these moments are woven tight—
A tapestry of satin and lace,
Stitched with pearls of wisdom,
Mended by ancestral hands.

Each choice becomes a signal,
Each traded glance, a claim:
I am here, and I am ready. 
But not only for the night,
Rather for the world, waiting
Just beyond the mirror. 

Here,
We gain strength in vulnerability,
Dressing both our bodies,
And our souls, preparing to step
Into a world that waits unseen,
Where every layer we wear
Is armor of art,
Where our stories help
To connect from within,
And where true beauty lies
In revealing ourselves.