your art
you're art
a collage of beautiful brush strokes

I compare my love for you to my driving.

Reckless.
Youthful.
Shouldn't be allowed.
Dangerous.

Yet I need it to get to where I want to go.

Everyone drives.
The ones who don't are content with that alone.

I shouldn't be allowed to.

I put my foot to the gas.
Trying to reach you.
Terryfying and exhilarating all at the same time.
But I'm all in.

Stop.

Abrupt.
Shock.
Fear.
Sorrow.

And it might just still be allowed.

here...
is all that is left

here...
is where it is at

here...
is between you and me

here...
is where we are free

here...
is the beginning of time

here...
is the end of the line

here...
is the answer to all

here...
is where we've been called

here...
is the hope we hold to

here...
is the brand in the new

here...
is where you've been lately

here...
is where you will make it

here...
there are no excuses

here...
no one is clueless

here...
is where we're meant to be

here...
is the place of that need

here...
is where they all say

here...
is where it's given away

here...
is where it begins

here...
is where it all ends

I don't miss your lies.
I don't miss how you used me.
I don't miss how you never cared.
I don't miss how you hurt me constantly.
I don't miss how you'd yell at me.
I don't miss how you made me cry.
I don't miss feeling alone even though I had you.
I don't miss telling you I love you.
I don't miss contemplating whether I should leave.
I don't miss how I was afraid of you.
I don't miss how angry you were.
I don't miss your threats.
I don't miss how you treated me.
I don't miss you.


                              B.S.