melted art

You were the dream that penetrated the walls of my consciousness in deep slumber, painting colored thoughts on the canvas of my vulnerable state of mind. My skin burned from every stroke of your face on my chest in your attempt to draw an image of us—permanent stains on me that I loved so much that I wanted to tear my skin off of me. I couldn’t scrub it all away even if I had to. I didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to wake up. But time crawled its way into your heart and the colors melted from your beautiful art, forming cascades of candle tears on me. And yet, it was still tragically beautiful. I watched them flow from me across the floor and down to a drain where you went one day and never came back. I found myself naked but I could still feel your warmth enveloping what was left of me.

A light went on. A heart shattered, echoing in the dream you slithered into and then disappeared. My eyelids opened, pupils constricted in a struggle to accommodate the truth that I am still alive and awake in a world where you don’t exist; alone with the faint memory you left burning in my hand that used to hold your heart…





photo image by:Soffia Gisladotir