you keep throwing me off the edge of the galaxy with broken arms and tattered sleeves
that with the wind confine and bind me to your statue; a scuplture of yourself you've
dusted with the frostbite of your heart.
i saw you turn the sky to clay and paint the winter in charcoal
when your watercolors ran together and spilled
across your aching canvas and i
closed my eyes as you destroyed the beauty that you
once shaded the world in with and
gave depth to the heart of a lonely girl with.
and you drew us in circles and traced them with your delicate
guitarists' fingers
that you couldn't mold your heart to fit, so instead you
tore the seams of mine and let it unwind
and fray at ends we couldn't force to meet.
,
and i hear you say you've become an artist when really i just
watched you fill yourself in with
cement.
