Girl of No Grain
...notes from someone I used to be...
By Domonique EaddyPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read
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My relationship with myself is…complicated
Forgiving at best
Unrelenting at its worst
And completely ambivalent when in between
In truth
I am like a paint whose colors had been stolen and replicated to near
perfection.
I’ve got hints of Frankenthaler lining the sheets of my arms, with Pollock
splatter across my chest and if you look closely, you’ll see Van Gogh tipping
his head back as he swings on what was once had been a trusted organ,
drinking heavily on his yellow paint
Praying to his savior that this time,
it works
But if you chip away the paint
And uncover the low lumps behind the Indian canvas all
you’d see is a
battered mannequin taped at all the wrong ends
People scare me in ways you can’t imagine.
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About the Creator
Domonique Eaddy
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