my arms were once a canvas
bare and crisp
i would stare, afraid of leaving any marks
when i found my love for a my favourite red biro
i started to draw
i drew beautiful things, places and everything that hurt
i painted portraits of faces i had yet to see
when the red biro ran out of ink
and the canvas aged and began to fade
i was left with a trace of everything that led me here
ugly but bittersweet
when i met him i swear id seen him before
i couldn’t pin point where from
digging through the past, the canvas seemed to find me
and there i saw him
on a beautifully scarred wrist
a beautiful portrait in all that hurt before
Nov 30, 2025
Nov 30, 2025 at 6:41 AM UTC
my arms were once a canvas
bare and crisp
i would stare, afraid of leaving any marks
when i found my love for a my favourite red biro
i started to draw
i drew beautiful things, places and everything that hurt
i painted portraits of faces i had yet to see
when the red biro ran out of ink
and the canvas aged and began to fade
i was left with a trace of everything that led me here
ugly but bittersweet
when i met him i swear id seen him before
i couldn’t pin point where from
digging through the past, the canvas seemed to find me
and there i saw him
on a beautifully scarred wrist
a beautiful portrait in all that hurt before