There were greens I only knew

from greed

and reds from burning my vanities

I never saw black so dark

until my feet sunk into your rain-drowned

graveyard dirt

I wanted to paint my scars

kitsurugi gold

but the dollar store mix always rusted

copper disappointment

the oxidized blue suffocating

the lungs that learned salt

the way tears map a cheek

the clay of me

is still soft in your hands

Fiona Hartmann is a writer living in Toronto, Canada. She is interested in creating thought-provoking fiction that creates emotional connections that transcend through the digital landscape of modernity. Find her published and forthcoming work in Kelp Journal, Shot Glass Journal, Neologism Poetry Journal and elsewhere.