The Artist

Three months of bliss,

Day 91 that all changed,

He showed his true colors,

And they are here on my face.

Black, blue, red and yellow,

I wear them in the dark,

Quietly and fearfully waiting,

I am sure he will add more.

He paints me when I slip,

He paints me when I sleep,

Constantly stroking his brush,

Unfortunately, I am his masterpiece.

He is the artist of agony,

Slick and discreet,

His work is hard and robust,

And my face is his canvas.

By Badilisho

http://ibwriting.blogspot.com

Note: Inspired by the web series entitled JustUs (http://vimeo.com/23092420)