The same paint that drips from my brush
is the exact paint I cover bruises with.
A peachy tan that matches my natural glow.
Every morning,
yes, every single morning,
I grab the bottle of reds and yellows
and blues and whites and mix.
I mix and mix until I see my flesh melted
in the bowl.
Then I take my spongey brush
and graze my skin until the black and blue
shade is gone.
Darker peach on my arms
since the bruises are visible with my sleeveless top.
Lighter on my face so it matches the makeup.
Then I take the same brush
with the reds and yellows
and blues and whites and I paint.
I paint my canvases.
I paint the walls.
I paint scraps of paper.
I turn my fear and my pain into art
because that's the beauty of it all, right?
Pain becomes one hell of a muse.
may 6, 2022
Erin
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