Painted Upon

Like a canvas they pour colors on me, choking me with the weight. They make “art” on my bare skin like it wasn’t beautiful on its own. They glide their brushes on my face to smoothen my lines, leaving me crinkled on the inside. They turn me prettier with each touch but I can feel…

The Colored Canvas

Staring at the blank canvas, she stands with paints around her. It was a beautiful sunset right outside her window. But today nothing could inspire her to pick up the brushes. Lying on the table with the palette was a form that would admit her to medical school. But did she want that? Her father…