torn between hate and love.
stretched between what hurts and what pleases.
the torment of the gray area threatening to swallow all color,
make me into a likeness of you.
i want nothing more than our fingertips to touch,
for the defining lines to blur and cease,
desisting,
corrupting into an untamed blend.
your heart to my heart.
but you've severed your bond, tried
to repair it with stupid apologies, tried
to keep me within reach so you can keep performing your horrid experiments, tried
to mold me into something i refused to be.
so i rejected you,
substituted you with something that barely
resembles what you used to give me.
a faint overlay, a shadow
embossed by your words fitting in with mine.
when we used to clash,
colors folding in on top of another, notes
singing like harmonious dissonance, hues
of our dreams converging into one diamond,
hard and tempered, to become
what i would call
love.
when we used to agree,
common ground found underneath the lustrous
youth of our abbreviated ages,
tearing down the double-digit standards of everyone else,
and who were we when no one else was watching?
i did not change for you, but for myself.
my metamorphosis had been painted for me.
but you chose to take the canvas and burn it anyway.
masterpieces,
into pieces.
j.l.
