You were once my canvas,
So blank, dull, colorless
I came alone, armed with my words as my finest medium,
And you sat still, waiting, motionless...silent
And I embraced your apathy
Sensed your discomfort and replaced it
With my own loving hoping you'd respond
But you didn't
Yet I continued to paint my love on you
With pastels and sharp lines
I dug into your white skin,
Dragged my "brush" across your body
Felt the sting in my heart when my paint began to chip
As if it were allergic or aging with every bit of my forced passion
And I violently glared at you
As you rejected me, my loving, my soul
The sound of your silent reply,
The cracking of my once radiant abstract,
The remorse buried beneath the surface of your rough exterior
Laced my body with ice,
Froze me into a permanent statue
Only meant to move for you and you alone,
My words, my paint, fading, leaving you
Blank canvas on the white floor...
...becoming one with the surroundings as my immovable body stands lifelessly
Forever waiting for your heart
My own chambers engraved with your scars...
A product of our one sided affair
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I enjoyed this poem,
i like the last line,a great last line, does a lot