sunflowers
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.
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