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The breeze-kissed lake's ripples breathe silver.
A startled moonlight loon grasps the sky without a cry.

Never mind the moonlit leaves
while they fast until daybreak.
I sat in the grass, under the sun, and found a tiny bug in my hair.
It was orange with a gray **** and itsy bitsy wings.
It did not fly away when I picked it up, but it just roamed aimlessly on my hand.
What shocked me was that I couldn't feel the bug at all,
not even when it hiked over my individual finger hairs.
I watched it walk like it had a purpose,
and looked at the way my porcelain skin divided into the colors of the rainbow in the sunlight.
And then I realized, not for the first time, that the universe can't even feel me on it's hand.
I walk around as acrylic.
But when I'm selfish I wish I'm watercolor, so that...ya know, maybe I could start my life over with ease.
I live most days as acrylic.
Some days are really hard. That's when I'm oil, and the pressures of it all build up and build up and harden so fast...
I'm constantly reminded that I can't erase a color. I have to keep going.
Layerlayerlayer STOP
Wait, wait I'm turning grey--
I mean gray...
Just wait it out. It's okay. Don't throw my canvas away.
I'm acrylic.
Another color,
There's a layer.
I'll hang up forever.
To be looked at,
and maybe loved.
I walk around as acrylic.
Please stop trusting me.
I love you but you think that's a good thing.
It's not.

Stay away from me.
Don't you know that I'm poison?
I am.

Things don't work out for me.
You say someday they will.
They won't.

I love you so much more than you could ever know.
Go away.
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