I want to step into
every art gallery in town
and tell them about
my art exhibit
called “Depression”
where every canvas is blank
because I haven’t painted
since I slipped into darkness
into my bed
glued, tied down,
melding with the unwashed
sheets - flattened.
I want to step
into those galleries
and show them my old paintings
from before
and call the collection
“Wild Woman”
because I was
untouchable
or maybe more like
unreachable,
but either way,
I held a paintbrush even
though I cried while I did
but now they all sit in limbo
in a cup full of paint water;
the color of all colors
beside my bathroom sink.
— I want to but I won’t.
Source - unknown
YOU ARE READING
Suffering In Silence |✔|
PoetryA Book Full Of Poems. Someone Is Suffering In Silence. //\\//\\ 𝐒𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 I look at these scissors in my hand. Testing the blades with my fingertips. I poise the sharp blades over my wrist. I slowly push down, swiftly mo...
