Please don't search my skin every morning and night
As if I'm one of your art pieces that isn't quite right
You'll stare at your drawings for hours wondering what you need to change
You erase all the wrong lines till you've painted over them
In order to perfect your piece
My skin is not your canvas
You cannot erase the marks I have made
I'm not a piece to be speculated by an artist
Who never deems any of her pieces worthy.
If you like I can frame myself for you
And tuck myself away in the dusty crevice of your room
A graveyard for all your unfinished pieces;
The ones that even you could not fix