they paint a picture of me:
black and white and grey.
i pose for them,
so still I have forgotten how to breathe,
my lungs aching
and my head spinning.  
they paint only
the portrait they want to see
obscuring my flaws
and covering all the bits of me.
black and white and grey,
black and white and grey.
i drag my fingers
through a bright color
and smudge it across the canvas.
they want be to be
black and white and grey,
but maybe
pink was my color all along.

too many tears have been shed;
i’m all cried out.
even the thought of leaving
used to make
my lip quiver
and my eye start to well up,
but now i don’t feel anything.
is something wrong with me?
do my feelings
even exist?
i’ve tried so many times
to make myself feel:
forcing myself to cry at movies
making myself feel angry
trying to make myself
fall for someone i will never fall for.
i want to cry,
i want to feel,
but for now
i am stuck in an endless cycle
of emptiness.

i wake up with an aching heart:
you were in my dreams again.
the mere thought of you,
of you touching me
of you smiling at me,
makes my heart race uncontrollably.
you blossom in my head,
suddenly you are giant,
the only thought in my mind.
you are mine, all mine
and we are one.
just for a moment,
i believe the dream.
but you were never mine
and you never will be.