Artwork

Her body was a canvass,

 Painted black and blue. 

He brushes her pale skin, 

With whips and heavy fists, 

To make a work of art. 

He splashes some color, 

As he slaps her cheeks red,

In a fiery shade of blush.

But he wanted a shade deeper, 

So he cut her lips

To make a perfect blood red tone.  

He looked at her once, 

Inspecting his masterpiece, 

Before he goes to leave. 

On the mirror of her bathroom wall

She sees her reflection

And decides she was an artwork, 

So she hung herself to please. 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Amazing use of description. You took reader to inner thoughts and bad ending.
"And decides she was an artwork,
So she hung herself to please. "
Memories can haunt us and leave us to lonely and desperate places. A sad ending to a excellent poem.
Coyote

[alifeacoustic]

A wonderfully spun tale, with a stark reality to it that is there for all to see. Superbly done.

[Carissa Marie]

Thank you very much. :)

[dexterous sam]

don't know the actual meaning of pleasure ...is it giving pain to others ...mentally or physically ...so that they ridicule themselves and rest their lives ...great work, well done....marvelous this one is irony to psycho ones...love it

[Carissa Marie]

Thanks for reading. :)

[dexterous sam]

you r welcome ...and u deserve this...;