The Painter

So here I am again-
Sitting in the same washed out picture
of the same washed out relationship
In the same washed out frame-
You and I solely shared!

And why do I still choose to stay in this picture?
Where the colours are fading
And the strokes of blood and hate
cripple from the paintbrush.

With time it seems you're words start to fade,
Yet when I look up there they are
never in short supply
Like a jagged crystal blade.
And I scream in pitches of fear...
But the painter...
Which is you- it appears
Will secretly paint the space with flowers
Colours so bright...
And when I look away again
You'll quickly remove them with all your might!

And so I ask myself why do I keep looking away,
Knowing the Painter will paint those words again?
The echoing chills of paint through my heart,
Jagged knives with a frozen start.

Now I sit
In this dark, clustered room my heart created
Just to cope
.............I Think..........
I don't know what or why it does these things!

And the stroke seeks me out again.
It finds me where i hide,
It's following your hand
The Painter
And once you are done-
With this portrait, you'll through it aside....
JUST ANOTHER PORTRAIT OF JUST ANOTHER GIRL THAT BELIEVED YOUR LIES!!!!