Her Canvas Is Her Wrist

An artist must follow a process,

One that is simple and yet,

All the same, so very complex.

She starts out by picking her canvas,

An unblemished spot among many

And enough to convey her work.

She picks finally and turns to prep

Her paintbrushes and art supplies,

Readying the brush in her hand.

Next comes the painting,

Digging hard, deep, and slowly

To coat her brush in paint.

She has chosen her color already,

A beautiful, haunting red that stands out

In stark contrast on her canvas.

She trails a thin line hesitantly,

Sharply cutting against her backdrop

And careful not to drip.

Sometimes her design is quite simple,

A few lines up and down,

Here and there on the canvas.

Other times, she is more emotional

And her art becomes more complex

With lines every which way.

With that, she watches her artwork dry,

The lines hard against the rest

And the red drying to a beautiful brown.

Alas, as she finds out in weeks to come,

It does not last, only fades

Until the brown is tan and then is peach.

It is then her hands become jittery,

Itching for her brush again,

As much as she hates herself for doing it.

It is her cocaine, her heroin, her ecstasy.

Most importantly her ecstasy,

With its ups and downs and looping twists.

As much as she tries,

She just keeps creating more,

More haunting yet beautiful each time.

Too bad she cannot share

For no one else would understand

And she would be alone.

Author's Note

Like my use of extended metaphor? Is it obvious what the subject of the poem is here, what the metaphor represents?

Reviews

[A. V. Madison]

I lied, as my 3 month old review states "I'll never do it again.".

Psh, I have scars up and down my arm now.
Ahh, I'm such a liar :
I do it not so much in pain, but just because it makes me feel empowered when I finish.

[.]

very very very very very EXCELLENT writing! i love the vocabulary and the craving this presents!

[A. V. Madison]

She can paint a lovely picture but the story has a twist, the paintbrush is a razor and the canvas is her wrist.
I remember when I cut myself. It seemed to be the trend and I made a little hole in my arm, it's a scar now.
I'll never do it again.