If he loved me
Wouldn’t he show it
If he loved me
Wouldn’t I know it
If he kissed me
My world wouldn’t shatter
My life is a canvas
Covered in splatters
Not quite mistakes
But not purposeful either
The decisions I made
Are laid out before me
In a colorful array
My mistakes are
In shades of gray
The painting is on display
And I am told many times
That’s my magnum opus
Isn’t worth a dime
Maybe not to them
But it is to me
My life’s laid out
For the world to see
And they will say
What they may
I will listen and reply
From this day on to the day I die
Those different kinds of paints and dyes
Represent me during life
And they’ll represent me after I die.
for someone...My life is a canvass, and you painted it blue. First love as you may be, your colors will soon fade. In my canvass of survival, I will soon forget you. Just because you left your post in putting some colors in this canvass you once called mine.
ReplyDeletenice post clandestine
My Regency
Thank you Karl
DeleteThe bittersweet of everything in life, I guessed..
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