Her Last Strokes

Call a man
and let me in,
chilling and horrible,
nowhere to elude.

He is trying to elude,
his actions illicit.

She is not alarmed
by her love.
She sees its wonder,
and nothing to fear.

It’s awful—
those vibrant paintings
starting to fade away.

She keeps on painting,
she keeps on loving—
and with her last strokes,
she fades.

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