Strokes on paper
The best thing about my life is the pages of my diary.
They don't ask me for anything apart from my words...no matter how harsh they can get at times.
They don't leave.
They wait.....like an empty canvas waiting for me to paint my words into different shades of blue....into different hues of red.
My pen is the brush...i move my hands here and there and create an artwork.
It shows me who i have been...it's my mirror on the wall...reflecting nothing but truth...no matter how sour it is.
These pages are the drugs to my pain
The letter to my love
And cure to my rage.
The cuts on my wrists bleed from their strokes.
They cry when my eyes are wet
They smile when my lips are curved
They stay when my strength is gone.....as a ray of hope.....
I give them my heart........and they never ask for more.