This is how we deal with things
Red, blue, purple, green
Splashes of paint against the canvas of life
Leaving our marks in the world

Black

The color of tragedy and of growth
Growing from the ground we walk on
Criticism taken; a better artist created

Yellow

Stereotypical isn’t it?
Of happiness and life
But also of illness, of worry, and flowers in the waiting room
There’s another streak on the canvas
How many more before it’s filled?

Aqua

Drinking and paint water
Vital to life
There’s a calmness around aqua
That makes you feel at peace,
A false sense of serenity created

Purple

For too many thoughts inside our heads
We can’t get them all out
Confusion, royalty, and pride
Pride in knowing that we’re contributing to society
And confusion on how to put it out there
Another streak on the canvas

Magenta

A confusing color, magenta
An equal mix of similar colors – pink and red
Happiness and anger
Or the colors of the flowers next to a grave
Perhaps of the bike next to a coffee shop
that you go on your first date

Green

We’re taught to love green
The color of money, of nature, of all good things
And the color of the carpet at your grandma’s house
The difference you made there
The color of a soldier’s uniform before going to battle
More streaks go on the canvas

Look where you are now
A beautiful concoction of colors, of experiences
That otherwise wouldn’t have existed without the bad moments
Look in the mirror; you’ve changed lives
Congratulations artist

Another masterpiece created

i once thought
our love would
burn
bright like
the sun
the center of the
cosmos

on
the
trail of love
to
stay alive
from
a
pack of wolves
that
howl and cry
oh
lord
i
know
that
i
will survive

Funny,
how people break promises
like twigs underfoot,
loud enough to hear,
small enough to ignore.

They hand you a vow
with velvet words,
tie it in ribbons,
say "You can trust me."
You do.

Then comes the silence.
The flinch.
The "Why are you so sensitive?"
As if it wasn’t them
who lit the match
and called the smoke your imagination.

They break it,
the promise, the trust,
sometimes the last bit of you
that believed people mean what they say.

Then they watch you bleed
and ask why you’re making such a mess.

a subliminal, a tool to our subconscious
you speak to me
over the quiet chatter
in the mind
even when you’re
not there