Blending with Black

You push my black with your coloured painted palette 

I'd rather be the paper than the painter.

Slick strokes created the mirage of a bond once held together by a frame.

No longer a picture perfect portrait.

Friends biologically formed.

And drifting,

Don't let my solitude break your heart.

I like to stay closed while you blossom next to me.

Watch the world, I will watch you capture it.

But inside my closed petals, there is another I have made my own.

The Angels Are Crying

Every feeling crossed out
Lashed against your skin.

Marked, red and bruised.
My ghosts you've tried to see through.

But I've hidden under covers,
Where no oxygen is left to breathe.
Tripping through a tunnel,
Damp and out of ease.

I'm sorry if you're sorry,
But I don't need a reason to cry.
I'm sorry if you love me,
And answers are impossible for you to give away...

"Be with me," is all I begged,
Your silence in response drained my blood.

In Her Nature

These walls I stare at.
Impossible to see past, to see through.

In this silent, empty room.

Nothing but a window,
A world all too familiar to look out to.

If I must bleed to know what is on the other side.
Cut me open.

Let's run dry.

Submerged in obsession of my own developing thoughts.

'Cause this pen,
Is all I allow myself to have.