A letter. . .?
Dear... love- darling- partner- sweetheart..
Whatever I am or was suppose to call
You..?
I told you I did not want to be another toy.
Yet everytime you come around
My better judgement is your
Chess Match.
At first the red was obsored
With the fluorescent colours
And yes.
The euphoria worked for a while,
However I have a way of leaving
Chapters devoid of colour.
Well....and
You have away of abandoning
Our bleeding ink until
My hope erases with the knowledge
You are bored...
I will be your broken doll if that
Is what you ask. I can be another project for you to fix.
Continue to wrap me in string,
Intertwine my mind with pretty
Lies and sew me a new identity.
Sculpt me to the mold that
Fits best,
Colour me in my own crimson,
Turn my blue violet or
Gold. Turn me to the shade
He was if it means you won't
Paint me green
Make me your puppet and
Waste my time,
Who I was once said I
Would never be anyone's "mine"
Yet each glass window is permanently stained
And your admiration
For me has faded
Beyond black. all I know
Is I will never get myself back.
