Chalk

Who hurt me that bad?
It's always on your mind,
and your lips go dry with the thought on the palate.
Who could make someone so bright just look so devoid,
such heavy staring martyr eyes that lead to naught but a void..
And I always want to tell them, look in the mirror.
But that's not quite right , as a mirror reflects light,
and you are not the murmur of a candle.

You're like the page on a calendar that someone rips
off and throws away.
But me? Oh yeah, I'm the black ink that bleeds through
and leaves behind
stains.
Like, "I was here."