I paint with blades because sometimes the truth hurts. I am afraid to leave the canvas blank, but where do I begin? The sad blues, or the anxious orange? In my world the trees are red furiously. Seas of sorrow wash away my consciousness, floating down the river of yin and yang. My brain rains down with anxieties to put out the glowing flame. I’m grieving, but I don’t know why I am. Maybe when the flowers bloom, I can find who I am. I’m sorry to leave you vulnerable, or maybe you’re hiding in the grave. I’m not ready to let you go, so I’ll put you with my collection of memories. Lock them away, for another day of remembering. Scrap books and scribbled notes, kept as mementos to my heart. Tears and scars to count the days I’ve been apart. You are a dream to me, but I worry to you I was just more dirt. Nail the coffin shut, I’ll scratch till my fingers bleed gold for you. I’m not ready to depart, I still wished plans with you. Don’t cut off our ties, dreams are how I reach you. I’ll carry you through the meadows, but you vanish when it’s dark.