I told her to be my canvas
As I can become the painter
I want to show her how we can work together
Like two people who build forever
I told her to become my muse so I can paint my future onto her rich melanin
Until the tempera soaks into her veins
But she told me it was bad timing
So I figured I would paint her into the right time
Creating a portrait that will be the depiction of her perfection
But then I wondered,
Why does a beautiful work of art continue to live alone
Just trying to understand why she hasn’t been taken
Why hasn't someone invested their life savings into her
It’s as though she was placed in the finest museum
But her radiance is overlooked because of its tainted history
Her canvas is ripped and torn with bruises and scars
Telling me how rough of a past she's had
She cotton and linen is ripped
And her soul is broken
Her paint is smeared upon her face like tear dops
Yet I still find myself staring at her colors
Only wishing she knew how much I did not overlook her
Instead I looked past the rejection and visualized a painting whose core has been damaged one too times
Now I realize it'll take a lot more than weak compliments and mediocre conversation to dig into her deep chromatic tint
What she needs
Is a man who is bold enough to recreate the glow she thinks she no longer has
To repaint the damaged acrylic that was smeared across her heart
I would drown myself into each delicate stroke if it meant I could recreate her
Staring for hours just trying to understand what was originally used to paint her
If only she could see the red paint that bleed from the bristles of my hands attempting to paint a portrait of us together
If only she knew how florescent her smile lightens up my canvas
Even on the days where the lack of creativity suffocates me
She flourishes each painting
She gives it life, she gives me life
She is my muse
My highest source of creativity
And if only I could someday sit her down
And explain to her
That I only want to use this tempera to create you into my cover girl
Because no girl contains the beautiful pigments that have been stained upon your skin
It’s like angels used the clouds as a canvas
Attempting to paint an image that contains the both of us in one setting
And maybe that will be convincing enough to prove to her
That her eyes hypnotize me with a cosmetic chromatic kaleidoscope from each flip of my paintbrush
But I only wish she knew
That there's just something about the art I think we could create

I was a ****** to the taste of alcohol for 18 years until the day I lost it to you
My first drink was a mix between reality and denial
This glass consumed the toxins from this relationship that I fell addictive too
I guess that makes you a double shot of ***
No, I guess that makes you alcohol poisoning
Because it felt as though you broke into my liquor cabinet and wrote your name on each bottle
Just to remind me why I am drinking in the first place
You shattered those empty bottles against my heart until I bled our memories
I guess that was your way of breaking the bad news
You used each shard to pierce my ribs
Becuase you never wanted to see us as one
Each shot of Tequila reminds me just how our relationship tasted
Sweet when drunk, but bitter when sober
Your name ran marathons down my esophagus anytime I found myself swallowing the sharp cracks and dents from this Crown
A puddle of Crown sat stagnant at the bottom of my stomach
Normally, Brown is the only thing that sparks a fire in my throat
But your attitude was more flammable than a full bottle of Everclear
And not even Bacardi 151 burns as bad as the feeling you left on my lips
I yearned for the nights where it was just me, you, and Hennessey
But now I spend my 2 am nights in the deepest of conversation with Jim and Jack
But each sip brings me closer to the bottom
Reminding me how we hit rock bottom
We hit rock bottom when you drove this relationship straight into a brick wall
You allowed our love to ride in the passenger unbuckled
So I guess that makes you a murderer
Because you killed everything we had
And now that you’re gone I subconsciously drink slowly
I drive slow
Hoping reality won't hit me so hard
I was hoping to eventually find you when I swallowed the last drop
Searching for the paradise I tried to give us while downing this Long Island
But instead I was brought back to the realization that you and alcohol go hand and hand
Both giving me the best feeling one night
Then leaving me numb
With the same emptiness I felt before I picked up this bottle
And the last thing I want
Is to wake up tomorrow morning
With the remnants of your taste still sitting on the tip of my tongue
You are my hangover