Keepsakes

The pencil,

the letters of charcoal you punctured across the emptiness of my heart,

slowly accomplished a whisper of hope,

while erasing every bit of misery,

scribbled along my favorite path of destruction.

The pen,

the death infused ink you spilled over my cold skin,

inevitably stained what was never meant to be,

and caused a fate worse than loving you,

a destiny filled with chaos and uncertainty,

within the walls of a meticulous mind.

The paper,

the solid white cage of desperation surrounding this wild brown-eyed girl,

pulling me in a routine full of previously written works of art and practiced lies,

ending with a predatory smile,

and beginning with a kiss between two strangers.