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