The perfect cat eye happens when the moon is right.
It happens when the spirits align, when the wind blows right in your direction, when the cauldron bubbles over and the forces of nature: the power of air and fire and the earth itself, deem you worthy of power. Do not take this power lightly. Let it radiate from the large floppy hat you bought for the season but will not wear, the pumpkin-scented moisturizer you promised you wouldn’t repurchase, the new black jeans you didn’t need. It’s FALL, you say, as you sacrifice your credit card for yet another cranberry colored dream.
You draw the perfect cat eye when you believe in your unending thirst for this power. When you believe in the power of your bones over the bones of others, and you are prepared to sit in the light of the moon on your bone throne. Nobody will remember who you are. Your name is now a candle going out, a shriek in the woods, a chill down a spine. Your name is what happens when somebody enters a room and forgets why they are there.
The perfect cat eye occurs when…your lips….is that a new NYX shade? Is that blood? Those who notice are too fearful, too fearful to ask. Maybe you don’t even know anymore. You tap tap tap your nails on the throne of bones, your eyes glimmer with madness. No one looks at you directly. Looking in your eyes is to face who you really are, your dark and your dirty. Your hair, it’s actually this wonderful Salt Spray hair product, you have to try it..or…is it snakes? Is it SNAKES?! The power vibrates in you. Bats follow you home. You vaguely remember light, but only when you are about to whisper a curse made of nightmares. “I HEAR LORAC MAKES A GREAT EYELINER PEN,” but LORAC..LORAC hasn’t been alive for 30 years!! Why is it so cold? Why does everything taste like fog, and nutmeg, and fear?? Who is it that roams these halls, endlessly, forever?!
Then, only then, do you flick the perfect cat eye.
You know, at least on one eye.