shades and silhouettes.
transparent, translucent, opaque.
a little girl in a haze of confusion.
there’s no escape door.
for she’s bound by blood.
blotched with pain and emotional abuse.
brushed with heavy blue strokes.
smeared with black smudges.
discoloration flooding her blushed cheeks.
a dullness falling amongst the painting.
no matter how many times he tries to
touch up the pigments,
there’s simply no amount of dye
that can cover up the peeling linens.
acrylic tears stain his eyes.
bold hues and feelings fade to watercolor.
verbal shards flake from her mind and seep into her heart.
gloss is what you use to fake marble.
she weeps for you.
but your feelings are masked with clay:
burned, hardened, and still.
over time you molded into something else.
but she has too.
her oils have blended into a new type of scheme.
her colors no longer run down the canvas.
she’s an aesthetic masterpiece who learned to fight.
and now she’s tracing her new life, without you.