By Serusha Pillay
I stand in my shower and watch the many colours run down my thighs.
All an intoxicating mix of orange, indigo and salt.
My skin stings when I try to scrub you away.
I make my coffee strong,
I think it’s because that’s how you like yours.
I wrap broad shoulders in blankets as rough and thick as the time we have spent apart.
Yet, you and I, we were destined for one another.
Age could not corrupt this.
I cannot rid myself of you,
I cannot empty myself into a glass, a man, an institution
without hearing the crushing of sinews in my every laugh.
If it is not mine to bare then take this cup from me.
My body is a canvas that we share.
Me, here, and
My body is a canvas that you have painted on for years.
I’m coloured grey and purple, and wanting
but they say that the artist never hears.