TW: graphic imagery

I bled watercolors
And you cared only for the art
For pain you did not feel on your own you made no empathy for

You told me about my bleeding
That it was a beautiful way to adorn the walls
So I dug my nails into my palms
Raked them along my arms,
where you used to write your love,
And let the paint pour out
Let the pain pour out
Down my wrists it ran
My fingertips coated like brushes dipped to deep into a ***

I smeared my hands along the walls
And I ran among the hallways
My palms leaving a wake
Still the tide, it did not go out

I wandered on
Like a ghost in my own house
Pouring myself out
Onto all the walls I had built up
In a way I tore them down
And in a way they broke me
I slammed my fists against them
Every door I had locked shook
And I put my hand on the handle
Praying that they would open
It seems no matter how strongly I feel
Nothing gives way

I sat on the floor
Everything beneath me splintering into my soul
My breathing was heavy and labored
Though my heartbeat was weaning away
My palms open now to the sky
And I pressed handprints into the wall
Pushing everything away
As you had pushed me so many times

So I feel to much
Say to little
And have no wanderings I can journey home from

But still you tell me
There is beauty in the bleeding
You.
Are the beauty in the bleeding