• Anonymous


My last memory of you

are the sole hues

I will paint your visage.

Break me,

and that twinkle in your irises

that was always speckled

amongst the blackness

will corrode.

Embrace me,

and a deathless rainbow

will reside across the soft of your cheeks,

the sunlit pinions of your eyelashes,

the chapped of your lips.

Forget me,

or leave me be,

and your portrait will be a blank canvas;

the roughness is my coarse desire

to torture your amnesic mind.


The author of this piece wishes to remain anonymous.