Five days, five hours,
three hundred minutes,
one thousand eight hundred seconds…
the tick-tock of the clock evaporates time
as blood pulses through my body,
as air flows in and out of my lungs.
Anticipation is the storm before the calm,
the blank canvas waiting
to be prepared, to be painted…
delicate and soft, almost eager.
Accepting it takes time:
first comes the tenderness,
then the toughness,
and finally, the full strength,
turning white and pink
into blossoming red and purple.
Circles, lines, dots…
all different, all unique,
never two alike.
New marks, a new painting;
emotions and beauty
splashed all over the skin.
The preciousness I’ll cherish
each day as it fades
and leaves the canvas blank again,
ready once more for a new piece of art.