I had my heart broken,
Not by anyone in particular,
It just accidentally slipped out of their fingers.
I sat there in the dark
Hoping to find
Some solace in the shadows that
Danced with the too-bright lights,
But I guess I didn’t want to get rid of the lonely,
It was all I had at the time.
I convinced myself that this cut was just a bruise,
It would heal in time,
Besides,
Other people have scars,
I’ll get over this little ache.
I turned away from the laughing sun,
Finding a comfortable silence in the shade.
I sat there till my bones grew tired,
And decided I didn’t want to fight.
I didn’t blame the ones
Who couldn’t see me in the dark,
I could go on without them.
I didn’t need anyone to hold my hand.
I talked to myself in the dark shell of my mind,
And while I played hide-and-seek
I shamelessly cheated
And hid where they couldn’t find me.
And in that secret little cave
Where my chest sometimes forgot
It was supposed to be beating,
I found myself a stranger to
My own little bruised heart,
But slowly I began to see who I was
And the murky ink became clear.
I recognized the colors that mixed into
Beautiful rainbows,
And… yes, less flattering shades.
But I decided that this was good enough,
I could let go
And paint with my own little dark.
I’m an artist.

i didn't want to paint i just wanted to be great at something so i unghosted my soul, told her to go pick 6 roses out of the garden of my love for the mountains & i pierced my nose w a silver needle that was so sharp i could hear your velvet voice again & it call came back to me in little waves of blue pain and sunflower energy on lined sheets of paper sort of like this one with an orange accent I had to find in Rome behind motorcycles & burnt coffee w out the bitter memory of sugar cookies, only the ones we ate on long weekends by the beach beside the ways in which the sun told us the stories of sunken ships & waves the moon wanted to create at 2:11am on the least windiest days. i didnt bring my brushes w me, but a skateboard and a glass house were enough for a disappearing act & 3 conversations w a wall and spray paint can

On a canvas filled with the lucid brush of the bright current stream
Fragmented strokes of faint nostalgia paint over the entropy of memories
Sometimes with the laughter of my childhood
To remember why I loved and who I lost
And tax my once innocent slate with the dark etches of growing up
Yet, in splatters of colour and black dye
I find the pleasure of reason and life
And a pallet with still so much to bleed

you are a work of art to me.
masterpiece soul.
watercolor tears.
bone structure a meticulously crafted sculpture.
brush stroke hair imperfectly contrived.
calligraphy dripping inked words.
musical melodious voice.
filmography flashes within your eyes.
i wish i could frame you as i see you…
displaying the beauty that that i see…
for you and all to see...

The tears drip down my face like a water color paint
Leaving trails of blue down my ivory skin
My freckle are splattered on by tree bark paint
My irises are covered in azure sky paint
The art of my world
Created by god
Causes me to smile
In the yellow painted sun