38

I can't be a painter.
'Cause I can't paint
and much less draw.

Every paintbrush is divorced with my hands
as well as with my head.
Colors don't treat me well
and split or unite as they wish.
And like that, I can't do us any justice.

I can't paint our brown heads
or your red lips
in contrast with your white skin.
And it's unfair.

(previously posted on May 5th, 2013)