Saturday, 6 June 2020
'Colours' by Hollie Sherrington
My body is a canvas, and he is the artist. His mood is reflected in the colours that adorn my torso and limbs. When he's angry, he paints me black. When he's afraid, he paints me in softer shades of blue. When he's lustful, he stains my body red. I long to be a blank canvas.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2026 FlashFlood: The Complete List
In case you missed any of the pieces we appeared during the 2026 FlashFlood, here's an index to everything. Sadly, the 'Blog Archiv...
-
Nobody understood this could be a thing, until they saw jumpers at a certain height, five hundred eleven feet, tumble upward. Unlike faller...
-
I’m not lover of art. I don’t know how to react to a splurge of colours on canvas. Or appreciate fine brush strokes on paper. And yet, this...
-
Every day I bathe in mud, lathering the slippery earth onto my arms. When the daffodils bloom, I immerse myself twice a day. I got the idea ...
No comments:
Post a Comment