Me, alone
exposing my wounds to an
audience, healing myself like a
lonely magic trick.
Everyone claps, leaves and
I am left bleeding.
Will none see the scars? Feel
the crater of the cuts or
ridges and dents in the skin?
Canvas of colors, my flesh a
chameleon, blue with the bruise,
red like rage, multi-hued as
foliage, rotting leaves that are
forgotten as soil--to be stepped on,
swept up, and gone