on seldom days when he didn't hurt me, he'd paint me. he'd pull me into his sunroom and use his wires to control my movements....
i was his perfect doll
he'd wait for sunlight to shine onto my bronze skin and grab the long paintbrushes.
he wanted me to strip bare
id strip bare for him, showing the ugly truths he did to me and the purple splotches he created.
he drew my true self.
he emphasized my flaws, my imperfections
i loved it.
YOU ARE READING
panacea
Poesianot completed. panacea (n.) : a remedy for all your troubles. twenty three poems about society's most beautiful tragedies.
