her beauty is like
paint.
she drips of
the canvas,
she hides her deepest secrets,
herself,
underneath a thick layer
of happy
colors.
the closer you come,
the more details you see.
the more you see she
is mixed with the most beautiful colors.
but she is more colors
than the rainbow
ever had.
i am jealous.
but people look at her,
laugh at her,
touch her,
spit at her
and eventually
scrap her from the canvas.
she starts crumbling
and falls hard
broken
and cold
on the ground.
---
"what the hell is a stiles?"
YOU ARE READING
her deepest colors
Poetryshe shouldn't have gone. but it was that i was truly mesmerized by her colors, that i didn't realize she was f a d i n g.
