I crumble and fall waiting for it all to come tumbling down. That being reality. Reality that hits harder than bricks against my bare skin as I slam into its wall. Harder than ever before. I watch as my scrapped skin oozes colors and hues. Wondering when I might lose my vision as I grew faint of the sight of blood. Chipped a tooth when I began to realize this all. With you my vision grew fuzzy. My love, it meant nothing to you.
No.
The moments we shared curled up against each other. Breathing in synchronization. Slipping tongues painting strokes of heated moments. As the acrylics slipped down and gently grazed our skin into what we thought was a masterpiece. Almost a perfection to be mounted upon a easel cherished by local art connoisseurs or Vangouh himself.
Nothing.
Silly, was it and almost remarkable you might think. Remarkable that such a girl was so foolish to have ever fallen in love with you. And kept falling in love with you. Over and over like hitting a brick wall. Cracking her skull but still gripening with the effort to still smile at you whenever you brought her warmth. You warned her to not continue any further and that she was making a steep turn. You told her of the broken heart you had felt for someone and how it would never change. It would never change things. But she yearned for your affection. So much that she came back over and over again to the point where your affection felt like water being drawn from her lungs and that you had saved her from drowning in her own loneliness once more. That your affection meant so much to her at some point because she had discovered what it meant to love something broken and that included herself.
Something fixable.
Or so she thought and she hoped to become your godforsaken martyr to save you from that cold blooded reality that the last girl cheated on you and wasn’t coming back or that your father and mother passed leaving you an orphan. An orphan to the world in which you colored cruel and seasoned your wounds with its salt. No kindness to be found but lives that were covered in a pure grey muck of false intentions. So with this muck you smeared across my visage and blinded my eyes in its false intentions pretending to be in love but only to salvage coal for which I may kinder and burn as my only form of warmth from the long periods of constant coldness I was about to endure from you. You were my winter leaving me abandoned for months only to expect that I would be joyful for your return. But you knew that I foolishly was as I lapped up whatever affection you gave me, despite me being terribly broken and feeling ridiculed. Falling in love with what I considered to be a bricked heart was something I never expected to conjured but life is not like the love you see on the tv screen. I’d break the pictures and images of it and you and I if I could which a cold toed sledge hammer.
Endings were not always happy.
Family’s are sometimes broken. Flowers did not always bloom during the spring if the soil was barren. If I could only feel important to you in return and feel what it really meant to be desired by someone who had fallen in love with my mind instead of what physical attributes I had to offer. Then I’d-
Stop.