My last memory of you
are the sole hues
I will paint your visage.
and that twinkle in your irises
that was always speckled
amongst the blackness
and a deathless rainbow
will reside across the soft of your cheeks,
the sunlit pinions of your eyelashes,
the chapped of your lips.
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.