Another finger tip,
another fine gentle brush of your skin.
Like a canvas you have painted this master piece.
Yet the pieces are made of me.
As the water colors start to run,
So do my emotions.
Or what is left of them.
I've really ****** up.
I've really ****** up.
I've really ****** up.
And now,
the canvas is complete.
First love,
gone.
First ****,
gone.
First soul mate,
gone.
I'm in pieces,
and soon I will be gone.