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Too young to be this broken

av den 31. januar 2021

I look at her for a while, study the tears stained eyes and the broken smile that even Frankenstein would not know what to do with. I still wonder how eyes can reflect such pain, as if it should not be possible and yet there they are; tearing through your soul. At last I conjure up a bit of courage and ask “ why do you keep giving so much of yourself to those who give nothing back?”.

She looks away for a little while, her eyes goes distant and silence covers us like a thick fog making it almost unbearable to breath. With somber in her throat, she finally answers “ because if I can save one person, just one, then that is enough for me”.

I let the words wander in my mind, but they never settle. I understood why; I almost did not want to. As if it somehow would be easier if I just did not. But it was too late, the words were burnt to my heart and the pain left a sillage that went straight across.

With a deep breath, holding back tears, I ask with such pain in my voice I did not quite understand how the words came out… “why can’t that one person be you?”

She does not answer, but she does not have to. The words are so clear across her face; it is like someone carved the words into her skin; “because I’m not worth it, because I don’t deserve it, because there is nothing left to save”. All these answers rolling down her cheeks in the form of tears. They were so toxic, I almost expected them to burn through her like acid.

Once again, I am staring at her. Looking at the eyes of someone too young to be feeling this sad. Looking at someone with too many emotions for this world. Looking at someone who so desperately needs to be saved, and no way of saving.

 

  • I would have set this world on fire, if there were a slight chance that it would’ve made you smile.

Dripping in red…

av den 12. juli 2020

I will be your canvas, I will be your colours.

Whenever inspiration strikes, I will let you paint your emotions.

So, when your heart becomes too loud, and your hands begin to quiver; I will be your art.

And as colours spew against the walls, I wonder where your mind wanders.

And, I wonder when there is no more room left on me for new paintings, when the colours have run dry. What then?

Will you find someone new, someone with more vibrant colours?

Or will you finally put down the brush, and see the masterpiece that was always there; dripping in red.

– For you always said I looked best in red.