Sweet Creams

I won’t allow you to do what is easiest.

Dipping your wide brush in a bowl

full of tears and painting me with

such narrow strokes.

Because we both know that

once fingers meet emotions

words morph into lies on the screen

and the pen creates a religion

for false gods.

You were my lover and confidant

My friend and protector

I would never dishonor those titles

I have given you and reduce them

to sleaze with easy excuses

And I could never be empty

for the love I had for you made me

so full

I often had to press my palms to my heart

to keep the slick spill from splattering

upon my feet

You were too wrapped in you

to see the cuts you made

fresh again

While my flesh grew weary

and painfully hardened

all tangled up in shades of grey

and obsessively plucking at the silver lining

A hopeful person’s harp

attempting to make sweet music from such a thing

seems impossible with no formal training

No trusted mentor to guide

No example of the right moment to flee

or just allow the other’s hand to fall by it’s side

gracefully, silently

without fear or regrets

I wish they would just create a color for hope

so I can drape myself in it each day

instead of this cheaply made

hand-me-down