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