she was art
she was the part
that no one could account for
greatness in her contour
creativity seeping from out of her pores
dripping onto floors
like wet paint
she ain’t
ordinary
every bit of her
extraordinary
and she wore it very coronary
as if it were a crown
and if you were to look down
on her head
what she said
was more than remarkable
the fire she kept
inside her re spark-able
like a fuse
she is everyone’s muse
truly an inspiration
a beautiful creation
freckles aligned on her face
like constellations
refusing to be complacent
adjacent from
a galaxy that glistens
driven by ambition
as she paints herself with liquin
colors vibrated against her skin
you can hear them closely,
if you listen
you could hear them as she spoke
her breath strokes like brush strokes
ever so soft and subtle
her palette slightly muddled
as oranges and blues cuddle
leaving dull minds fuddled
nothing can suddle such a divine mechanism
but her scheme vibrant with rhythm
seeing the world in her vision
through her own prism
consuming herself in the bristles
she is blissful
every curl in her hair wistful
as every lock wrapped around
one another twistful
she was sublime
as she saw herself as redefined
soaking herself in turpentine
painting a new path
like a phoenix, she arose
from the ash
bouncing back
like stretched canvas
she grabbed in a hand, with
gesso in the other
making her slate blank
to enjoy different palettes
and different paints
an artist
unable to part with
success