Diana Thomas (7 January 1959 / Brentwood, Essex)
Through the Paintbrush
She can scream through a paintbrush.
It's safer that way.
The frozen blue of cold rejection,
Green poison of jealousy,
Red - oh, God, - RED
No, I cannot let this out.
RED is a colour of such anger
Such pain -
those memories -
Fight them, close them back in the box.
Push the lid down,
don't let the red seep through.
It destroys, it burns, it scars.
No, never let the red through.
Don't feel the pain.
If the red escapes the screams will never be still.
Comments about this poem (Through the Paintbrush by Diana Thomas )
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