My Picture

Their love affair Was coming to an end He'd felt the shadow Of it For a while now It started With subtle Changes In her ways with him Then ones so drastic And harsh He wondered If their love Had ever even really been She couldn't see How her actions Sliced through him Like a knife His cries and pleas Were mute to her now Any that penetrated through Just served to irritate And push her further Away This, In return Pushed him further into his Resentments And away From himself And he realised Now He'd lived in a small cave In his mind. Where he'd painted A beautiful picture With all the passion And commitment Of a ressiansance Artist. Her careless And Thoughtless ways Infiltrated his cave Vandalised his picture Stripping the luminous colours, Dazzling scenes, Corroding its magic The more he saw this The more tainted Damaged And darker his soul became Anxiety Resentment And pain became his daily bread He didn't know this version of her He didn't want to But he couldn't leave Becuase Of small moments When they held each other, A certain look in her eye, Or turn of her head. Her childlike ways. He should have accepted it There and then Should have known That small moments Were just small moments He should have Ran Closed the doors of himself Held his head high Instead he refused it And with blind hope turned away From all that screamed in his face And Focused on his picture Painting more furiously each day To preserve this beautiful image His masterpiece Their future If only she would stop And be the girl she was Or the girl she'd appeared to be Or most terrifying of all The girl that had never existed He was half starved now Broken and lost Existing in a different reality That he was loosing himself More and more Too Then all versions of her left His reality shattered And he sat in that small cave Of his dark Lonely Muddled brain And stared at his picture Relentlessly Filled with anxiety As everything he had Worked for Longed for Destroyed himself for Slowly started to disintegrate Into the meaningless nothing It had always been His picture is gone now So is that man He has learnt many lessons Dragging the pieces of himself out of his cave He's older Worn at the edges And Corners But He's existing in this reality Finding himself again His soul Slowly expanding within him For him And only him He's learnt how to treasure it And keep it safe. His heart And mind His own And he revels In it Sometimes On gloomy Dark days That picture flashes through him It can still make his eyes Brim with tears It can make nostalgia And melancholy swarm All around him But Only for a while And in those moments he wonders Why Must we drown In a cherry picked Sea Of our own desires?