Masterpiece

I was floating in the middle of a green field

when I felt cold hands grabbing my waist.

A pocket square covered my mouth –

chloroform had never smelled so bittersweet.

 

I remember when I told you I liked red,

you said I looked exquisite in it.

Is that why you made me bleed?

So you could paint my body with your fingers,

touching,

ripping,

shredding.

Crafting and carving on my skin.

 

I recall when I told you I liked purple,

until I became it.

Your face branded on my eyelids every time I moved,

with your twisted fingers you tattooed me.

The arms around me resembled a cage –

I should have run when I had the chance.

 

I remember when you said my grey eyes were beautiful.

maybe you liked them so much that you wanted them still.

The gris turned to ice, losing its sparkle.

Orbs always open and never blinking

you would be the last thing I see.

 

I recall every time you said

you would help me become what I found most beautiful.

I was the only canvas you needed to express your artistry.

you loved me and would transform me into your masterpiece.

I wonder, if I had said I was colour blind, would you have let me be?

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