on her arms

a paintbrush, held so delicately

matches the tan color of her hair

cut into a bob.


rain, on a canvas

i reached out

like i could feel the water

tip tapping on my palms.


with each stroke she created

a new world, a pocket in time

she gave life to the paint

that sat in the container

i had given her

for her birthday.


her freckles were dots of brown paint

her words were covered in rainbows


then somebody painted over her.


  • hpoetry

    i really love this, good job x

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