by Amanda McLeod
Sadness changes
the shape of my face
Lines of happiness
get redrawn in a different
direction
with a heavy pencil that only
pulls down
Eyes have their sparkle
erased
Hooded shields appear
puffy, and the corners
are tugged at by a memory
that once, things were better
Fine traces
of watercolour tears
stain my skin a different shade
a finely worked map of years
All paths lead to a place
no one returns from
The work, once perfectly
blended and tinted
in perfect balance
now pieces joined
at odd angles
with awkward seams
A melancholy cubism
of smeared faded colour
Amanda McLeod is an Australian author and artist. Her words can be found at Mookychick, Pussy Magic, The Cabinet Of Heed, and elsewhere; and she is the assistant editor at Animal Heart Press. When she’s not immersed in words, she’s usually looking for solitude in quiet, wild places. Connect with her on Twitter @AmandaMWrites.