she painted
across my skin
with
a myriad
of styles

lashing
autumnal anger
whithering winter
sullen spring
and
seductive summers

i
was
her canvas
her flurry
of
emotional instabilites
her brushes

deep purple bruising
ragged bite marks
clawing her way
through
the fleshy bits
until
not an inch
was
left unsoiled

she
left me
a broken
work of art
on
display
for
the world
to
consume

a pollack
of
spattered alibies
thinly disguised
tattered lies
and
lullabies