Broken Brushes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 28, 2018

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Submitted: August 28, 2018

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Life for me was miserable, I mean I was 19.
You'd be miserable too if you read poems made by me.
But that's how the life of a broken hearted artist worked.
Life handed me rotten lemons,
And all I had to do was figure out how to get the money to buy new ones.

You see, my artful hands never made trash.

Every scissor scrap was a new piece to adapt.

For echo scratched holes haven’t lost their sound-

And blacked out rings will never make me sing!

I’ve been dying since the day I’ve been dragging my soul!
And you broke me till I was no longer whole!

My hair's a mess,
I barely get dressed-
My breath reeks of depression worse than 1929,
I keep saying that I'm fine but they're fabricated lies I've grown to accept over time.
As I watch you sit there admiring his “art,”
And you sit and take a peek the polarized photos that he took from this morning.
We were never was this pitiful but our love became flammable.

Paint brush,
Pain struck-
Charcoaled art has been never seen this dark.
Galaxies you were,
Now a never ending blur.
3 A.M no dreams again,
Every breath is a gasp in shock of ruined canvases.
As broken hearts never break even because you've said you're never leaving.
As uneasy heart will always weigh the most-


But broken brushes just can't be held.


© Copyright 2018 Jay Evans. All rights reserved.