What do you see when you look at me?

What do you see when you look at me?

Do you see the broken white and fine grey veins? Do you see the tiny dots of amber and golden notes? Do you see the dull , sun kissed pebbles in my eyes? Do you see the constellations wiring my neck , choking me mercilessly. Do you see the strands of garnet thread around my wrists and ankles? Do you see my bed linen wringing wet with black ink? Do you see the crushed feathers under me? Do you see the vermin crawling all over my chest? Do you see the amethyst breathing it's last while lying between the four-walled trials of my mind? Do you see the numbed lavender in the amethyst losing its calm? Do you see the pangs of despised love filling my lungs? Do you see the ivy vine climbing and silently creeping around my hair? Do you see the vine shedding it's leaves? 

I guess you love the glittery and shimmering confetti more than dreary purple consuming my head. I guess you love prickly roses more than the tardy vines.

For you, I covered my dull eyes with chantilly lace, the one you love. Was that enough to hide my white base glazing in smoky tones? The merlot granules still stick to my robes, waiting to catch your eyes. Then you shower me with home-made honey, from your backyard. The same backyard where you buried my body.  

Your fingers hold on to the paint brush a bit too tightly and then they seemingly relax like a waterfall finally letting go . The skin between your eyebrows wrinkles, contemplating this work of yours. Slowly pride tiptoes to your senses. Your then stagnant lakes of vision now reflect colours of life; a life you created. 

My body rots in your backyard while you were busy throwing parties for your artsy friends. What for? Was the party held to celebrate your finest art? 

 An art that was brutally killed.

 An art that was never alive

An art that was now claimed by the Underworld.

What do you see when you look at me?

Am I now the same crafted body that you want to cherish? Am I now the same chiseled face you want to frame in your bedroom?Am I now worth being the pristine sculpture that you would want to exhibit at your palace? 

 Am I now worth being your art?