I was blank
But you covered me with sunsets and
Northern lights.
You showed me off to the world as
Your treasure.
As the colors faded,
So did your façade.
You held your paintbrush against my skin,
Coloring me
With black and blue hues,
Until the fumes knocked me out.
When the paint began to peel,
You scraped at my remains
Forcing me to feel
Your hands
On me again,
Until you were satisfied
With your work.
I have no blank spaces left
Except for the one within.
But how does a masterpiece
Leave her master?
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
I was blank
But you covered me with sunsets and
Northern lights.
You showed me off to the world as
Your treasure.
As the colors faded,
So did your façade.
You held your paintbrush against my skin,
Coloring me
With black and blue hues,
Until the fumes knocked me out.
When the paint began to peel,
You scraped at my remains
Forcing me to feel
Your hands
On me again,
Until you were satisfied
With your work.
I have no blank spaces left
Except for the one within.
But how does a masterpiece
Leave her master?
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