Your love

Your love was like a canvas,

A black board,

I was the board- you the chalk,

You wrote upon me , 

You words of love , your betrayal, your anger , your pain,

Your stories, your glories,

Words to build nations and to destroy them,

But like every chalk, you finished up too fast,

And when he came by,

 I had to wipe myself clean off you, rubbing your marks from my heart,

Rubbing off so hard,

My heart is bleeding and grey now,

But I had to do it you see, to let him write,

But he finished too soon too,

Said something about how your lines were too visible

Of how it looked like it was imprinted forever.

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