I wish I was a masterpiece
Created to be destroyed, in your mind at least.
A perfect shade of pink ran around my cheeks.
I felt them fade to grey as you ran away.
With a paint brush in hand you let me fall to the dust.
Unprotected I sat, unfinished and alone.
Half of a heart traced across my chest.
I couldn’t move I was stuck in the grasp of a portrait.
Framed by a scholar.
Pondered by a thinker; I saw myself as…once in a blue moon.
But when the moon did show its face, I felt the coolness of the sun’s rays.
They were being portrayed by the moons white glow.
A poser in a way, there was light.
No heat to warm the bodies stuck against the walls of time.
Twisting a word into a masterpiece is harder than twisting a paintbrush into one
My friend, you have drawn a path in front of me.
Directly to you. And my breath was taken when you stole it,
Right out of my mouth.
You took the black paint and covered my face.
Ashamed of what you might have created.
You wanted me to be perfect.
An image so precious, you just couldn’t create it.
You hated it.
A masterpiece to me, I was.
But to you, a demonstration of destruction.
I was Nothing.