i was never half so naked
as you torturing your genius.

when you put me into poses,
made me lines and blue,
drew me over death,
sketched me skewed
atop your live-in girlfriend.

when you found your lost
love
and painted,

and when you found it less impressive,
you and that child,
sealed your cold, careless
portrait of me
behind ugly bricks,

made art of your apology,
and grace of your grace.