It’s my fault, I know
My face is blue with “I’m sorry”s
And I feel like stuffing my mouth with asphalt

My words are a blessing
And a curse
I think about not writing anymore

I’m sorry I put you on display
I painted a picture of you
That I can’t erase

Everyone has a dark side
I guess my biggest
Flaw is exploitation

When you’re the artist
It’s easy to forget that there’s ever
An audience in the first place

So high strung, sweating out
Colors in order to express
What’s inside of me

Can’t you see?
It’s the antagonist in me, I was always
Meant to write the story

Ink drips from my pen
At night, until I pick it up
The typewriter is a part, a part
Apart of me

Clicking inside my head, gears
Shifting and turning
Until I find the perfect words
Unsaid

And I’m sorry I unspooled the thread
Of your sweater, I apologize for leaving
The string behind
Leaving it for you to find