Between the lines of now and then, you’re drawing me with ink and pen. Every ridge and every curve you’re carving out what I deserve. Tangled veins and knotted hair, a thunderstorm of senseless care. Between the breaths of God and man- You’re writing me just as I am. With fractured bones and black-hole eyes, painted purple, ringed with lies. All I am is what you see and what you make is all I’ll be.