i used to love your grip on my throat
because it was better than not having your touch at all
even if it was so cold that it burned my skin
you fell only for my white sides,
my shy smiles and the way my face
turns into a cherry red when you make me blush
when salty rain fell from my eyes,
when the porcelain of my skin bled,
when my beautiful mask of glass shattered,
when you saw the mess i actually was,
you decided you didn't love me anymore
and i wondered if you ever loved me
in the first place
or just the beautiful mask i needed to wear;
you blamed it on me
as if i've never shown you my true colors
maybe you were colorblind
and painting the walls of our future was useless when you couldn't see it
maybe you just wanted to see my mask,
curiosity made you watch under it
and you got scared of me
you loved my love poems and ignored the ones i wrote while i was falling apart;
as long as i could keep beautiful my mask, the glasses cutting me inside didn't matter at all
YOU ARE READING
the beautiful side of misery ¦ pink
Poetryart is nothing more than the way we have to express how beauty looks through our eyes but art, the real, purest and most captivating form of art is finding beauty where nobody else can so i slipped through the most morbid corners of my guts to portr...
