Use me, abuse me, treat me like shit.
Hit me again, bust up my lip.
Tell me a lie on the lips I used to kiss.
Tell me goodbye, this time use your fist.
My skin is a canvass and your hands leave pastel colors.
The sound of the contact echoes like thunder.
Push me away, forget about me.
I've finally realized, it's time for me to leave.
I don't know if I will, I don't know if I can.
I'll never forget the feel of your calloused hands.
One day, I'll paint a picture,
a picture of us.
You will be my canvass,and my paintbrush,
a gun.
01/31/17
YOU ARE READING
From My Mind To Your Pages
PuisiI have to get the words out of my head sometimes. This is a completed work of 9 years worth of writing about the boy I was in love with. 9 years of expressing my emotions in written form. 9 years of him reading every word and treating me like shit a...
