the boy loved to paint.
he was most artistic when he was sad, happy, or in love. i observed him for hours while he painted, each colorful brushstroke sparking new life onto the easel. i watched him paint himself a new, more colorful heart because his old one had been overworked and faded. but then, one day, he told me he was giving up painting.
and that was the day i believe he stopped feeling.
the next day, the smile on his face disappeared.
the following day, his tears were non-existant.
one week later,
he didn't know how to love anymore.
before i had wanted him to just paint a real smile on my face, the one i could never crack, and it would truthfully say, "i am happy because i am loved." now i just want pick up my ink pen and write the same words on the palm of his hands, so he can see the truth when he finally pulls them away from his ocean-filled eyes.
he still covers his eyes though, and i don't know why.
maybe he's afraid of what he might see,
or maybe he's hiding something from the world.
one month later,
my words are smudged but still legible.
and the boy snaps his paint brush in half.
Author notes
it took me a long time to get this together and post this, and stanza five to the end didn't get written until a while after the original idea was formed. sorry if the beginning was better than the end or vice versa, but i decided i'd just post this.
Comments
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lovely
you're a beautiful poet. that will never change.
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Really awesome poem! I really liked it! Keep on writing! Love and Peace!
-Jess
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!@#$%^&*()_+
amazing. -
i love it all this was pretty sad though do what you love and love what you do...such a wonderful way to showcase this story....continue the writing..much <3..scars.
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