I drew my pain today
In charcoal,
Deep strokes
Hard and angry
As the cuts
You left on
My heart
And people
Told me
How beautiful
It was.
I swallowed
The truth
And smiled
Because it
Was what
You did
To me
And said,
“Thank you.”
So I bleed
Out black
Ink
And left
My dead skin
On the pavement
Chalk art
Of the sadness
Indicative
Of a momentary
Thing I made
With love
And had to
Let go…
I
Take pictures
To remember
That even
Your betrayal
Can be made
Into something
To make the world
A better place
Not because
You were good
But because
I am too good
To be wasted
On you.
I've got
Nothing more
To say
To you…
But one should
Always beware
Hurting the soul
Of an artist
Or a poet
Because
History will
Only see
And read
Their version
Of you…
And see
This is all
You left
For humanity…
Pain made
Beautifully
Poetic…
Because the
Poet was
Beautiful
And you
Just a footnote
In her history.
