I started tonight. 

 

I started to peel the ache 

 

Like age old marigold wallpaper

 

Saturated with memories 

 

A strip would split into reckless rips, frustrating my finger tips

 

I scratched at the edges only to reveal chips of paint

 

Layers of coats, the wall kept warmer than most

 

Without art, creativity freezes and is called anxiety

 

What if doctors prescribed art for head trips

 

Getaway stay-cations with materials included.

 

Pick up your prescription from the art store.

 

It was when I stopped making. That's when this ache turned my pink--- gray.