deepundergroundpoetry.com

Black and Blue

I tend to reflect and relive it all
I go over the minutes our rise and fall
Like on the playful tones and the giggle in your talk
The sweetness you had and the comedy in your walk
I used to see such art in you
Like in the simplicity of your smile
And I wonder if I dug deep…
If I could find an artistic style…
If I could recreate the beautiful side that I no longer see
Or if you really are the sorry shame that you have come to be

You see, it's like this…
Perhaps you can tell me what you think
You say that horse is dead so we're gonna beat it till it stinks
I want your face in a frame. So I can break it
Then throw it up on the wall as an abstract mosaic
And while the thought of you becomes benign and archaic
I'll splatter the guilt so thick you can't say it
I'll pull the wisdom from your teeth until every word bleeds
Break you from reality cuz you choked your own seeds
I want you chewing on the grit of it until your tongue is numb
And when you start resisting I'll force you to succumb
Spinning the rest of your soul into a Labyrinth of knots
Trapping you right where you stand so I can start taking my shots
For your blind eye and cowardice
And for watching that bridge burn
For having to raise the stakes
While my little boy yearned
I'll pound petals out of flesh until your feeble mind screams
For every single night that brought him bad dreams
I'd like to paint your promises that stopped too long ago
The blackest shade of Cruelty cuz that's all they've ever shown
And then I'll cripple your crooked, simple smile with Tales of letting go
Like the day he called you by name touched your picture and said, "So?"
And just to be thorough I'll splinter every. single. bone.
Making sure your eyes awaken to all you must atone
And that bleeding heart you don't have?
I'm dragging that shit through glass
Stabbing you deep and making the hurt last
Then I'll shove it down your throat and make you take a bite
Have you travel through the pain of it
Now you know what it was like

So tell me.
Can you interpret that?
Am I getting through to you?
Do I have an artist's touch? 
Have I painted you black and blue?
Perhaps you've seen it coming? 
Saw these colors spills before
When he said he wouldn't leave You and he had two steps out the door
But there's no excuse for the repeat
Or the fire that was in your shoes
Hell, the greatest artists left alive couldn't find the beauty left in you
Written by JeanieShyrle83
Published
Author's Note
An older piece that still rings true.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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