when you colour it in,
be willing to slip outside the lines,
colour right off the pages
onto your desk,
your clothes,
your skin.

let colours bleed and blur,
find your own complexion.

and maybe, in every smudge upon your skin,
in every errant line that strays,
you will find the imperfections,
a chip in your shoulder,
the scars of summer joy on your knees
from when you scraped them against the sidewalk
running with abandon,
blemishes on your nose
textured like the...