beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet

for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind

sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme

write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say

beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display

I could lock myself in my room.
Surrounded by my belongings,
By the mirrors that have seen my secrets.
I could cry and bleed for days without anyone asking why.
I could drink and smoke without suffering the consequences.
One lock to one room shielding me from the outside world.
Shielding me from the invisible flames of everyday life.
I could walk on my self-made clouds of smoke,
Streaming through my lungs and out of my mouth.
Filling my head with OK thoughts followed by whiskey,
Drowning her sorrows,
They say with an attitude.
Finding a place between realities standards and being ****** up.
I reply.
Attention *****.
Pain ******.
Stoner.
Happiness-seeker.
Drama queen. Depressed.
Sad.
Suicidal.
Dead.

She sits here to write a poem about the color that she has subconsciously chosen for her late night, dark movie of a life; the color that consumes her train of thought.
RED is the iron taste that calms her brain and her sick, hungry craving.
RED is her rage fueled violence that sends her raving.
RED is the chains of love that tie her to the dead man that holds her close.
RED is the remains of her many loved ones overdose.  
RED is the sounds of dark creatures in her room while she fights drowsy consciousness.
RED is the flashing lights arriving at her house to relieve her family of suicidal drama.
RED was her liquid cure to trauma.
RED is the hospitals unforgiving smell of the broken minded girl, in dire need to forget the RED sticky liquid in her hands.
RED is what she feels when no one understands.
RED is the devils strong words manipulating her movements.
RED is the crackling fire preventing her of improvements, it sends her too much joy.
RED is the lipstick that covers her when she pretends to smile.
RED is the lines that begins to pile upon her skin while she deals with the misery she’s living in. She writes her poetry to keep her sane,
Take the bad thoughts, and remove them from her brain.  
To share them with others helps her know that someone cares, because the thought of being alone is the only thing that scares her.
Abandonment has sent her down this path so when she portrays violence, it’s a much perfected craft,
She wants to keep her friends but she just pushes them away because who would like to stay with the girl filled with rage.
What’s sad about this story is that the story is true,
And this story is mine, it’s nothing new. But now you know all my baggage and cracks that keeps me away from the rest of the pack.
I’m an outcast and a liar to say that I’m fine, but the movie that I made with this color is truly divine.
Please don’t worry my dear, I’m getting better with time.
This poem is the past and I’m in the world of new so maybe my next movie in Technicolor would be best if it was BLUE.

Why do they stare?
And act like they care.
Why do they lie?
Then leave without goodbye?
It must be me,
What do they see?
A throw away toy,
Used up of her joy?
A nighttime ride,
Rid of her pride?
Broken stride.
Nothing but lied to,
Nothing to do,
Except sit here and think.
Thinking is what ****’s her though.
Gnawing away her skin, and her flesh.
Digging to bone.
Her eyes are made of stone,
Nothing but her shield is shone.
She’s left alone,
Yet again.
Her blade is her only friend,
It will be what causes the end.
The end of her misery and cries.
The last lie.
The last goodbye.
Goodbye.

It starts sprinkling,
Then raining,
And eventually,
It turns into pouring,
Sometimes storming.

Well,
With you,
It started sprinkling when we began to talk,
Then skipped the pouring,
You came in full on as a storm.
Blowing me away with each word you say.

And now,
What are we coming to?
What are we going to do?
Is this rain going to stop?
Or are we going to live our life in a boat,
Saving each other from drowning?

I don’t want this to be another I Love You.
I want this to be something more.

Rage filled nights,
Blood filled fights.
Red visions blurred,
Directions without a word.
Satan fills your thoughts,
Religion is forgotten,
Bible pages gone rotten.
Green blood through your veins,
****** fills your brain.
Run and ****,
Stab for the thrill.
Wicked smiles placed,
Angelic qualities erased.
My hunger is traced with the craving,
That when satisfied sends me raving.

I close my eyes.
I am there, when my body is not.
My surroundings are quite different,
But my mind leads me somewhere else.
Memories flood and my heart picks up pace.
I am on my way to my happy place.

A fan blowing icy air fills the room,
And it chills me,
But tight arms around me spills warmth into my body.
This feels right and perfect,
Nothing could ruin this moment.
Thunder booms in the rooms around us.
The arms pull me closer,
Threatening to pull me into his heart,
Completely engulfing me.
Sweet humming and a perfect heartbeat makes me want to cry,
I ask myself,
Why does this perfect being have to be put through so much pain?
But the night continues with inviting kisses and screaming whispers,
Hushing from a friend while happiness engulfs us.
The first “I love you.” Is received and responded.
“Be mine.” Is asked and answered with a kiss and a yes.
Drowsiness swallows us together, waking up to check on each other and pull closer.
Falling asleep in each other’s dreams, we beg not to have this end.

Then I snap back to reality and smile while my heart flutters,
Needing to go back to this or recreate.
Only one person can relate,
I go and talk to him and walk with him,
Fall again.
I’m his and always shall be.
Can’t he see?
He means the world to me.
He is my happy place.
His face,
And his voice.
I have no other choice.
His eyes are the prize,
My heart’s my disguise.
So to be apart would be bonkers,
He is the holder of my heart,
He is my happy place.