Your Mural

She is your mural
For the cobblestone walls of a familiar town
For a busy city street where people walk with their head down
And yet still you wonder why
How she could possibly be a girl of so many colors
A dancer with so many lovers
A million passions saturated her face
As if that is enough for the hole in her heart
Still, you question when it did start
It started because of you
And your promises that showed her barest bones
A funeral for all that was known
When the color first touched her skin, it was beautiful
It drew the eyes that needed it most
Washing waters of the coast
It hurt but she did not care
For this was her only definition of love
Yet her rainbows were not enough
Because color is not as potent
After you’ve seen it a million times
When she is made up of a million lies
She cries
For she hears the screaming of a mob
That knew not the truth of her song
She wove these myths if only to make herself seem brighter
If only to draw your eyes back to a mural you once loved
Now baked by the sun
Except she did not know how to paint the way she was supposed to
The water should not be tears, the pigment should not be blood
Still you ask her why she runs
She runs because she knows you will hate what she has become
A monster swearing it was for you

You’ll say it isn’t true
Still, she is your mural
For the cobblestone walls of a familiar town
For a busy city street where people walk with their head down

— Gabrielle Mata