He knew I loved art,
So I became his canvas,
His palette of color.
For blue, he made my tears match the sky.
For red, he dragged a blade across my skin till my blood flowed like a stream.
He beat me till I was purple and my skin blossomed like lilacs.
He saw how I flinched,
calling me selfish.
For I loved art.
I was his canvas,
And he was my artist.