As you stroke your brush against my heart
I felt that it was rougher than expected so i warned you.
You looked at me and painted a bit more carefully
I smiled and looked at you lovingly as you painted
You smirked and that made me tremble
You said that is should stay still
I followed.
Then after a long while i felt pain against my chest.
I looked down and saw my chest covered with red liquid.
Horror filled my system. My blue heart and soul.
I am expecting you to paint it with yellow but you didn't.
You painted me with agony and pain.
But it's fine i am still one of your broken artworks and that's enough.
Maybe i was one of your drafts. And maybe you weren't the painter that i long for.
