Your voice a phantom in my dreams.
How it drowns out the screams.

The cold winter floor,
A memory that chills me to my core.

I was your canvas,
And you were the artist.

Painting me in red and blue.
Violence your only muse.

The nails on my flesh,
A new medium of art.

The scars in my chest,
Your own signature at best.

My repeat offender,
Creating the world's prettiest gallery.

My pleas never render,
For my tears are you only salary.

Your face changes among the years,
Collaborating with other peers.

I a new painting for the muses,
Can't withdraw from their raid.

Unlike the bruises, the memory of you will never fade.