Void Red Ink, but Paint

No corrections to be made
We had whips and chains,
Places to blame
And circumstances to hate for our in and out game
Never believed we met the end of the line
But still ray as we ignored the math matics
Finding ways to dilute the valid hazards we speak every time our spaces meet
Remnants of deaths just coming into focus
Left on ceilings of stages marked for our atonement
Drip, drop
From tip, top
To places that would leave stories in the footprints
If they fell fast enough
Too down for the idea to witness the panoramic view we had of the writings on the wall
Perfect depictions of the scars and bruises
And the therapeutic uses of letting go
But we used the flowing as paint instead of proof
Drawing what could only be the work of history rewriting synergy
No whips and chains: correction
So we were free to deviate from this plan we made
So familiar, like I’ve seen this play in mourning as the sun awakes us
In two different places
Ended hating each other, but with enough insight into our selective memory
To leave a little space for the feelings of satisfaction momentary
I wish we would skip all the make shift and fast-forward to the pain
Then maybe we’d pick up someone else’s sense and see that we’ve painted this prose before
But we love the illusion
I’m counting the moments till you forgive me,
Show up at my door and I take you
Can’t say no to the walls I molded and the monster we created
The weakness in free will
Forever, I will be devoted to this…
It, never worth mentioning
Or trying to explain
That’s why (we stay) it stays
Between us

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