unnamed poem.

Drawing lines with a silvery pen

Scarlet ink glints in cold fluorescence

Why must my cavas bend and sway

Kissed sweetly, its ink seeps forth

Kiss deeply and it is no more

Red beads swell and trickle

Art man made yet made of woman

A few more strokes is what the canvas desires

No solace in pain, no beauty in life

Her life wasn't art, but she dared herself artist

She paints lines over lines

Would that strife be redacted

Always painting

Emotions captured by numb keloid

Whispered death threats bring comfort

Fighting for a voice without my head

The nails let you know we're still real

Run red, blood spill, promises kept

Everything is fine today

Lay down my pen, wipe clean the lifelines

I'm still here, I still feel

Another time, another chance

For my canvas will yearn again