Broken Canvas
If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise; what it is it wouldn’t be, and what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?
I'm not angry,
like my ribs are breaking
out of oxygen.
My canvas is
silently walking, like
a light bulb
waking the darkness.
I won't apologize
for your wrongs, like a wolf
in heat.
You couldn't catch the
hint, when I spoke words of half truth.
Like love in dimmed
light, blood just feels out are
rose covered path.
Thursday was my best friend,
Friday became my silent tongue.
Your new love, is like the
silent, shouts of obscenities just
because they roll so well
of my thorned tongue like poison
ivy.
I hope you have
fun with symphonies of my
last petaled rose.
You picked my
leaves, my black petals
and the one
that was once my raw
delirious
shadow.
You lusted, you
took, and decided to push
my hinted words
into my forgotten coffin.
Did you hop
for the chance when I
said, "Sure
do what you want?"
Did you two not
think of the pain like eager
ghosts with
overwhelming hesitation?
Shrouded in
love, maybe you bloom
but I'm
crushed.
About the Creator
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