Saturday, February 6, 2010

Painting Smiles.


I woke up in the morning to the cold sun shining dark rays through my grime-coated blinds.
The tops of the dead trees were like metal rakes, combing softly through the quickly moving clouds overhead.

I fumbled my way to the speckled mirror to gaze at a cracked reflection,
segmented and unaligned. Bizarre, perplexing, twisted, tired.

A masterpiece of Picasso.

Was it my own? It looked to strange to be mine.

My paintbrushes and paints were lined up in a row. Red, yellow, green, blue, black.
Bright eyes and a rosy smile, I painted on with the careful strokes of a pointed brush.

one stroke
For my dignity.
two strokes
For regret.
three strokes
You had your arm around her.
four strokes
I had to remind myself

that sometimes all I can do is paint my way through the day
before I wash it off again at night so I can start over tomorrow.

So I'll wake up every morning
and paint smiles on the cardboard walls. I'll paint the sun; I'll paint the sky, blending my own shades of sadness into something beautiful until I find the right shade of happiness

But right now, I'll just paint. I'll paint until I fill in every crack and cover every shade of grey.

Some hearts were meant to be broken.


  1. All hearts are meant to be cherished.

    Hope you find your happiness as oen day I'll find mine.

  2. Have you ever smoked marijuana or taken LSD before?

  3. @Anonymous: Certainly not. And I will never EVER do that stuff.

  4. I like the way your mind is twisted. It makes me smile.


Write me a song.