Paint It Black.
sometimes you want to take the pain
from milky fingers
and sugar lips,
to take the fruits from silver platters,
and tears
and hate
and paint it black.
so they will see
the tracks and scars that will never heal,
that can never sleep on silk pillows.
because hair thats soaked in smoke,
dirt
and
grease,
it doesnt belong to the finer things.
and back on the pavement,
the pebbles, the streetlights,
the merchants who cant repair your broken things.
you take the oil, the grease,
from the rainbowed puddles,
and paint it black.
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