dear painter

in a world of blank space i am your canvas

fabricated from the finest woven cloth

a jail of colour

so that every stroke

whether thick or thin

will stay with me forever

hit me with your hues

or massage them in

circles

or strokes

or dump it on

rain colour over my skin

over and over

until the whiteness is but a blur of the rainbow

on the good days

hug me

with pigments of the sun in your arms

i’ll remember it

on the melancholic days

kiss me

with the hues of lavender on your lips

i’ll remember it

on the days clouded with resentment

hurt me

with the colours of darkness in your blows

i’ll remember that too

i’ll remember it all

and i want you to remember that

there will come a time

when the iron bars of my cell rust

and the woven threads of my existence decompose

and i am still your canvas

but you cannot bestow me with your colour any longer

so you put me away

maybe in a dark room

or strung up on a grand wall

no matter what

i will keep everything you gave me

please, remember that

sincerely,

a canvas