the poems from the heart.

relapsing ★

im in recovery.

i grab the metallic color,

I draw one line,

another,

and so on.

am I recovering?

i space out,

an hour goes by.

I come back to my senses.

and I hate it.

back at step one.

What was supposed to be a work of art, is something different.

it hurts.

My paper is covered in bright red ink,

But my pencil is silver.