She was a masterpiece;
A piece
of the Master of Heaven,
And in His image.
Her pale, parchment skin
And her smile, drawn up
meekly at the corners –
The picture of beauty,
In nature’s eyes, in human eyes,
Though not in her own.
Perhaps she saw behind it.
What lies beneath skin and smile and bone?
Soul, spirit, mind, hatred
(In fact, not all of these lie)
Birth, bearing, life, death,
And paper, paper, paper—
Can lies be erased
With no tears to the page?
Perchance. But they stay
If not realized,
If not made to leave.
Like an old photograph,
Under the ink, she was only paper.
Paper,
Which easily weakens under revolted tears.
Tears worn on perfect eyes
Turn to tears worn and torn through the page;
A masterpiece shredded, a sodden image,
Her smile lost,
Below the crusted salt, the bleeding dyes;
The bleeding dies
The picture fades
The page is blank
And old scraps are now buried.
Please say what you think, be critcal, and be truthful. Suggestions for a better title would be helpful as well.
Ineed to use this in a portfolio and it needs to be good. Your comments are appreciated, particularly constructive criticism.
Thanks :)
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