Like the fading smudges beneath my eyes,
Remnants of the last pale light of love, I thought.
Bruised and grey, the clouds marked the sky's rosy cheek tonight.
But the shadows of fingerprints on
the soft flesh of my forearm
did not float away as clouds do.
The canvas he had been working on
hid no secrets.
And it was not paint that trickled down her
in a straight and steady line of metallic red.
Like a sunset bleeds without drying,
She looked up and wondered,
In time, will I bleed dry and fade to black like this evening sky?
Could his broad slashes of hurt and anger upon this canvas
change to birds and simply take flight with a few soft brush strokes?
Or would the scars of careless words flung like droplets
permanently stain?
Lids closed, she wondered
what he was trying to create.
But she knew the picture he had painted,
Was fine art born of hate.
About the Creator
S. E. Linn
S. E. Linn is an award-winning, Canadian author whose works span creative fiction, non fiction, travel guides, children's literature, adult colouring books, and cookbooks — each infused with humor, heart, and real-world wisdom.
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More stories from S. E. Linn and writers in Poets and other communities.
The steps to losing a child
Step One: Lose a child. Not what anyone wants to happen and nothing you can do to change it, but you can go through steps to becoming happy again. You can go through steps to loving again. You can go through steps to become a new you because after losing a child you will never be the same person you once were.
By Tabitha Hinkley2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
love your poems
That was so intense and poignant. Loved your poem!