There is a vast depth within me,
strange and inexplicable
even to myself...
No words exist to explain
the truths that lie there.
Only pigment and brush
intuitively composed
on blank canvas
by hands none other than my own.

It hurts to breathe
and oh my god I thought I meant something to you
But I can't sleep at night
There are puddles in my eyes.
You opened up a book full of mysteries and pictures of better days
And I fell in between the pages
Mesmerized and lost in the clear skies and dark shadows
I was amazed and intrigued by this new world you opened up in a matter of a few pages
I never wanted to leave
And I wanted to have a thousand forevers in that paradise
But soon the clear skies turned into gray and it started to rain
The rain turned into hurricanes and it never stopped
I thought I had found my better days
but it turned out that I was just in the eye of the hurricane.
The raging winds and roaring storms left me breathless and torn
Now I don't know how to make myself better
I don't know how to be whole
I don't know what I've become
All I do is play the clear skies and the parts where it felt like I mattered over and over in my mind
When your words and my heart intertwined like our fingers, inseparable by any storm.
I thought your words were the only truth I needed
You held me close and I was so lost in the haze that I didn't realize you put me in the middle of a storm
You crushed my mind, my sanity, and my heart
You ******* crushed me and left me to glue myself together
I can't find all the pieces
They must have gotten lost in those winds
I don't paint clear skies anymore
It hurts to breathe.

I got my room painted today; my old walls were scarred, chipped,   worn...memories
But the past is in the past, the paint has already  dried. So why can't I forget? Why can I still hear them, the memories echoing through the room like restless spirits.
I just have one question, if I peeled back a coat or two, would the scars beam with pride? And would the walls still bear the scars proudly?

I guess a new coat will be good.... still underneath the glaze of perfection, the scars are still hiding and the walls are still whispering...
Yet I will remember,
only
me

Where there are no words that connect.
With all the colours that you feel,
To watch letters paint freely into each other
The magic of life,
It is indeed.

I adore you.
That is all there is to it.
Sometimes red poppies blossom in my stomach because of it
Like ***** watercolour water it grows increasingly murky
I find it is a beautiful shade of hurt and soul
It contrasts nicely with my porcelain casing
Like a tea *** I am poised to empty my contents
I adore, you.

They’ll end up calling me
“The one with all the paint samples?”
If they ask, they won’t
know my favorite color
because I won’t know
my favorite color either
And so my soul, too,
would remain unknown