The black and gray shading
that shadows the
bones and
the artist's emotions;
What's going through your mind?

Has the beautiful
collage of color that once
was the love you had for
her
faded away?

Are the barren bones
scattered about the canvas
actually pieces of
your newly
broken heart?

Or maybe the neutrality
of the gray shows
your indifference to the
fact that now,
She's gone.

What's going through your mind?
While your hand shook as you
carefully drew every detail in
the skull,
did you wonder about her?

When the side of your palm
collects shards of granite as you
shade in every corner of the canvas,
did you recall the way her
skin felt against yours?

What was going through your mind?

Tears made of blood falling down her cheeks. Help her.

"Come over tonight,
I'm craving your love.
I'm begging for your touch,
I'm hungry for your kiss.
Baby, wont you come over?"

You put on his favorite perfume:
The purple bottle of Vera ****,
the one with the cap shaped
like a crown. Tonight, you're
hoping to be his princess.

Once you arrive, you walk right in.
He doesn't greet you at the door,
but that's okay. He never has.
You come to his room, he doesn't say
a word, only strips you of your coat,

your Victoria's Secret lingerie, and
your dignity. You go through the
motions of what seems like making love.
But you know you're putting passion into
something that is incapable of giving it back.

Your kiss is full of want,
his has no feeling.
Every touch becomes more caring,
but from him, its only a game.
You know that he doesn't want anything more.

When he falls asleep, you're left to
lie in the sweat, shame, and disgust.
You thought it was different this time,
but its never different. You can't refuse
his sensual offers, the stealthy ways of

getting all that he wants from you.
It isn't your fault, but it is.
Your constant requirement of love
makes it impossible to refuse him.
"Baby, wont you come over?"

Tonight while you're sleeping,
I'll write about you until
my eyes can't stay
open anymore.

Tonight while you're sleeping,
I'll tear at my skin like it's on
fire, trying to figure out what's wrong
with me.

Tonight while you're sleeping,
I'll rip out the tear-
stained poetry that I've written
about you.

I'll cry and ask God why
I keep ******* it all up.
I'll do all of this tonight while
you're sleeping.

"When we love someone, they live within us."

Why do they have to live within us?

I can hardly live within myself.

Lying quietly on the other side of the room,
ignoring the fact that
the couple in the house is your only company,
and you are merely dust in the wind.

Them together only reminds you of how
much you miss him,
and how badly you wish that he was
here with you, because you're left out.

The sounds of their kisses,
their giggling,
it drives you mad
simply because you can't do the same.

Because you are here with them,
their only company is each other,
and he is too far away.
Their "togetherness" is enough to drive you mad.