Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The aching skin of hers vibrated and filled the room with a coldness unbearable

It was an awful sight to anyone who wasn’t understanding

Anyone who wasn’t an artist wouldn’t see the beauty behind the suffering

In her blue eyes

They kept the waves of oceans left to crash back into her mind

Flooding her thoughts like a tsunami

Unbearable

And so breakable.

She may of been weak overall,

But I saw the beauty in it all.

She was a perfect painting to me

Sculpted in lust and passion

*My perfect porcelain.
I have been
nothing before
and while I prefer
to be something
to you
zero
is a perfect circle
the beginning
the end
one seamless strand
made whole
Next page