Guest Feature: Recovery Looks a Lot Like Picking Up a Paintbrush~Samantha Rose

My skin isn’t paper
But that doesn’t stop me from carving the weight of the world
Into my wrists,
Crimson blood tiger stripes

Or from ripping apart the pages of a story
I never asked to be in
Don’t judge a book by its coverup
That is, pant legs and long sleeves

And betting on depression
Is like gambling with slits instead of slots,
The butterflies in my stomach
Are wingless wasps

But sometimes, scars do fade
And one day when I picked up a paintbrush
My story came back to me,
One letter at a time

And I saw my skin was flecked with gold instead of blood
The punctured veins on my hands became sapphire cracks
Ochre and acrylics filled my broken lungs
Instead of black tar and mothballs

And now, when I say my skin is a canvas
I mean to say
Not that I bleed in vivid color
But that I have paint running through my veins,

And you may often find me sketching ink roses on my wrists
And walking tightropes of guitar strings and poetry ~


*You can read more of Samantha Rose’s work on
Existential Poetry

20 thoughts on “Guest Feature: Recovery Looks a Lot Like Picking Up a Paintbrush~Samantha Rose

  1. Hi Samantha,
    You have a great way of combining words to create strong images but what really stood out for me is your tone, your personal voice that runs like an undercurrent throughout this entire piece. As your writing takes shape and refines that voice will become the wire that conducts the power of your words. I’m really looking forward to watching you take to your wings. I just know you’re going to soar.

    Liked by 2 people

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