Painting.

Where were the colors,
when we needed
them most?
Where was the truth
when we were
bullshitting
ourselves?
Off in a painted world
of
positivity,
somewhere I’ve
never been.
Somewhere I’ve
looked in,
from the outside,
but couldn’t see.
Somewhere I’ve been
fucking
dreaming
of being.
Holy shit,
I’ve been
fast asleep
ever since,
and I need to wake up,
Painting pictures
of
empty cups.