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| image courtesy of Magpie Tales |
If I could paint over
all of your hurt
whitewash your wounds
that still smart even after so
many years
when rubbed the wrong way
where would I start?
With the empty spaces
left in your spirit from
cutting words?
What color would fill them in?
With the mistrust from
lies
told straight to your eyes?
What hue would do for that?
And what brush
would ever be soft enough to
stroke the cheek that's been stung
by too many harsh slaps?
your very walls stained
with splatters of shame
Would I ever have enough paint
to erase the damage
inflicted by a critic
who was blind to
your beauty?
submitted for Magpie Tales 78
