my head swims in thoughts, feelings
and emotions that were suppressed so deep
that i have forgotten what they are.

why are you still there, painting,
as much as your heart desires
on the empty canvases of my mind?
the memories of you,
that you painted, oh so beautifully,
lay wrecked on those canvases
that you tore with your barehands.

why do you haunt me?
my eyes are wide open, drinking in
the ghosts of our past that you wrote
as they play around for the amusement
of my demons so vivid.

why do you utter my name?
from those rosy lips, gleaming heaven,
i still hear the cacophony of words
like the songs you sung meant not to be.

isn't it enough that i'm left with nothing,
as you reaped everything dear to my soul
that i thought i never had to begin with?
to bleed over wounds that i inflicted
knowing my heart couldn't drain you
as my mind still has those perfect captures
of you painting a portrait of us.

—our past