Excerpt From The Book I Poured My Heart On

Paintings On The Wall (#13)

I always tell myself not to depend my happiness to someone else but everytime i try shit will happen. Someone will come and ruin the momentum. And he just did. He did came in and started at the bottom of my being--a clever and wise move to do.

He did the things everyone seems to skip. He intuit me piece by piece and treated me like one of his masterpiece. I forgot he is a painter. I let it slip my mind. I forgot how he can manipulate his masterpieces and turn it into something that will favor his satisfaction. I forgot how he can easily hide scars with another color and make it appear divine.

He is a painter after all, he analyzes so well and understands you with those piercing eyes.
He will pour out his all until he has nothing left because his masterpieces are his passion.
He will make you feel wanted with every strokes he make.
He will patch the dullness you had and paint you with enticing colors.

But he is a painter.

Soon, after he gets to brush you his final touches he will frame you with the finest glass. He will hang you alone at the center of some wall and isolate you from everyone else. You are caged that way. The same way he caged all of his masterpieces. He will cover you that way. The way he covered your imperfections and hid the ugly scars from disgusted eyes, unaccepted. He will torture you that way. The way he made you feel like the world for months and then hangs you like a trophy of his success.

I forgot he is a painter. I let it slip my mind.

I was no different from all the broken souls he touched til perfection. He is just a painter. He's attracted to depths and flaws. He has a gallery of his obras.

And I am just one of his masterpieces.