Poem #297

Your soul is a canvas covered in
every color there is. There’s so much
light in you and then there is that
black brush stroke making an X across
your rainbow picture.
That darkness is me. Excuse me for being here.
Didn’t know that I would spread across
your painting so fast? Didn’t know I would
leave a trail? Who knew that wrapping your
arms around me was the same as wrapping
your hands around Titanic hoping for an adventure
but ending up dead?

I am toxic. Once I’ve infected your body there’s
no going back. I’ll write a note across my chest
saying “High Risk”. Maybe I’ll even throw in an
instruction manual for the next one who comes along.
Maybe if the first one who placed his lips on mine
had that manual I wouldn’t be this mess, this dark hole, this
poor excuse for a human that I am.

I know it’s hard to believe it but there was a time when
I was also a rainbow picture, a canvas covered in every
color there is.

2 thoughts on “Poem #297

  1. we cannot remove paint

    but we can paint over the mess we started with…

  2. sometimes we are prisoners of our own conscience, blaming ourselves for things are not truly our fault

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