she paints her sorrows
with metaphors and word collages-
each stroke spells her heartbreaks well.
and her eyes are floodgates
with tears free-falling...
drenching her soul's weak outer shell.

shards of broken clouds split the skies;
cloudburst is dressed in crimson hue.
gray hearts are cold, silent and smug,
all rainbows fade to shades of blue.

purple art sprawl on her skin;
this paper girl keeps painting still...
and every touch from her vintage brush,
leaves deep wounds that would never heal.

she's everything creased and crumpled-
a flat canvas embossed with scars.
her soul is pale- a torn sheet trampled.
her life, a chain of dying hours.

and when she thought love could save her,
it just tore her into feeble shreds.
her heart was burned in dinner date candles-
windswept trails of ashes spread.

lifetime wounds grace her pallid flesh,
as ice cold tears continue to spill
she's an artist of bruised tragedies
and this paper girl keeps painting still...