Lesion

This is a quick 2 hour painting I did based on this poem by Hannah Lindsay, my sister:
Bruises
The bruises along my collarbones
took the form of men I’ve loved.
But they matched the color of his eyes
and reeked of an iron flood.
To him, I tasted of sacrifice;
to me, he tasted of sin.
He built his houses of delight
on vessels beneath my skin.
The bruises vanished soon after he did.
And I, tattered and hollow,
felt wholeness return as iron-clad vessels
sutured themselves with sorrow.