you could never get my nose right

by Samantha Kelly

A monument to your potential,

squandered. 

Like the bottles of claret spilt on the floor. 

I suppose red was never your color. 

Dust covers everything, 

causing the light to scatter. 

It is a deficiency of humanity to only 

see things in contrast. 

Paint drips toward the easel

in the center. The heart – your heart.

With the canvas atop it like autopsy. 

It’s not a bad likeness of me,  

aside from all the cuts. 

Samantha Kelly is a student of the Warwick Writing Programme. Her poetry has been featured in Along Harrowed Trails, a recent Timber Ghost Press anthology. She was born and raised in a city with a lack of water and an abundance of cathedrals.