I dip my hands into the bucket
letting the milk dye cover my skin;
my hands in the cool breeze.
the liquid runs up my arms
blanketing where you touched.
The trail continues to my shoulders;
bare skin and lips caressing.
I don’t want to remember that night.
My palm grips the long brush
as it skims the surface of acrylic
then pulling the color along my neck,
down to my stomach and waist.
I remember how you made me feel;
your hands along the sides of me.
I delicately brush where you kissed;
the bristles tickle my face
and layer purity along my cheeks.
The color is shaping my lips and
covering the ones you left on me.
The tincture coats your fingerprints,
masking memories of how you used me
for another excited heartbeat.
My pulse thumps through the thick coating
faster now even when I think of you.
I’ve made a thick covering on the outside
so when I see my new reflection
I can remember how you made me.