Memories That Evolved Into a Jackson Pollock Painting
written by: Tinamarie Cox
@tinamarie_cox
I feel the days from my youth
like trickles and spatters on my skin,
and sometimes like gentle broad strokes
or slaps of color,
but always leaving
a gaping black spot at my center.
The water for my teardrops dried up years ago,
the dreamer’s sand clumped in the corners of my eyes,
because I replayed the images painted in my head
until the past deteriorated and
what I remembered turned abstract.
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