The Canvas Within My Poetry

When this world
let every
earthly desire
to be buried
underneath my skin,
I will let
your heart
define the canvas
within my poetry.

A lonely
Forget-me-not
left this poem
that is afraid
to be forgotten...
and it somehow
killed the hues
that is devouring
the empty canvas
trapped within
pieces of poetry.

You told me
that I
don't deserve
to paint...

Eversince I
was a kid,
you have been
making me believe
that crayons
hate me.
(Especially, the
blue one...
and blue is
the favorite color
of the
two of us)

Years have passed
and a mirage
taught me
how to write...
That was
the very
first time
I found
the canvas
lurking behind
my sleeves
and written words.

I cried
and the
canvas owned
every blue...
I bled
and it swallowed
every red...
Painting about me
is like
an undefined
shade of orange.

But someone
erased those colors
and painted
a Forget-me-not
through my poem.

But that
Forget-me-not
didn't like
to be sketched
in that canvas,
so it abandoned
the greatness of
being my poetry.
(Actually, there's
nothing great
with it)

Now,
I am broken
smelling the
scent of beer...
and you
hate it
that I
shrink in fear
to that scent.

It is almost
your birthday...

Maybe, I'll
buy you crayons...

crayons that cost
a Forget-me-not
and a poem.

Destiny smells
like you...
And don't
you know that
I am starting
to hate
your perfume?

So before
your birthday comes,
I will write
a poem...
I'll forget
that Forget-me-not
and the colors
it deleted
and write a
poem that
will let your
heart paint
this canvas
with the memories
of me
scribbling your name
upon thousand
wishes of
forgiveness.