The Canvas

Working with an almost
 Blank canvas,
The first swipe I make
Is red.
It pools.
Too much?
Not enough….
Another swipe on the canvas
It too is red.
Red reveals
The hurt
I feel.
The pools are the teardrops
That my broken mind cries.
The canvas
Weeping quietly
As the drops trickle
Down.
Needing more,
I swipe again…..
Several times…..
“Need”
Painted in red
On the canvas.
The canvas
Streaked in
Red.
The canvas?
My skin.
The paint?
My blood.
The pools?
My tears.
The scars?
Memories that I
Need
To remember
To forget.

© 2009, Kristin E. Porter. All rights reserved.
No republication of this material, in any form or
medium, is permitted without express permission
of the author.