Color on my

Paper white skin

With markers and spray paint and colorful sins


You call me Graffiti,

Your finest work of art -

You took it upon yourself to make me beautiful again


The scars you left make

Mountains and valleys on my wrists

A modern, contemporary piece that no one understands


Run your fingers up and down my spine

And play me like a harp -

From my cries, you orchestrate a symphony with only your bare hands on my body


Tears mix with mascara to create

A watercolor masterpiece which

Runs down my cheeks in soft streaks of black


Because the work of art

We once created

Is gone and never coming back


Published by Jasmine Uitto