Painted Love

Just another poem about someone I knew.

Our love was like a painting, every stroke you made, was like more paint splattered on our hearts. The night settles towards dark, as we see the sky lights up for us to dance beneath the stars. 

We both kiss under the street lights and look up and stargaze into the milky way. What a life we made, but then driven by the mistakes I made. Sorry isn’t even worth a word to say from my lips to yours. It should only be our spoken love like days we use to say it’s you and me against the world. Now it’s just that I’m still alone, with out you by side. Wishing I could take everything to help our love revive. As I try to survive this world with out you. Like I said, our love was like a painting that you were the artist and I was the projection that you saw from the eye of the beholder. But, I did not let it hold us for long enough. We wore our hearts on our sleeves and allowed us to believe what life we were suppose to live, but then our love was then seized. 

Three years together and four years apart, what a beautiful painting you made with your art.

I’m sorry for that it was never long enough, sorry for all the heartache and pain that I may have caused. It was the addiction inside that made our love lost like its on pause. 

You received my letter in the late summer and we met with one another. You took my heart again and you’ve still got a hold of it. Don’t let it go because I’ll need it back someday. 

Thank you for the days we spent together on those cold nights and hot weather. We stayed inside and held each other like we were our only one forever. We dreamt of the life we could have lived but wanted to stay in the small town we grew up in.

We had different perspectives, on ways to live, in the ways we think, and I’d sit with a drink, while you would tell me how bad it really is. But, I never knew. 

Our love was like a painting, we met in our teens, you made me feel complete. With out you by side, half a heart is empty. Nothing will ever be same, as I go insane, wishing to take back the days of it just being me and you. 

Our love was like a painting.

So please, take the brush, and complete your art. I’m still waiting.