A picture is worth a thousand words, so

I will paint you a thousand pictures with my words,

each letter a color only i can see,

a canvas of memory.

One red splash of paint: word: atrophy

meanings i'm not sure of, just words, just sounds and syllables

that sit on my tongue like candy apples,

melt into caramel abysses, close my eyes, entering into the place where you left.

i will paint you this. i will paint you the pain you have caused me

and the small words that sat on my tongue,

the whispered phrases, each syllable like another color

onto my abstract picture which will sell for so much

so much, so little, you are all trying to find the meaning.

you stare at this picture and at my corpse. you say, "anyone can make something so simple,"

such a simple disaster. just words spilled like empty paint cans,

soaking the canvas so much that it creates a tear down the middle.

i say to myself, 'this paint will never dry.'

and it dries. but the colors are so blended now it's hard to find the meaning i wanted to give you.

i wanted to show you the hurt i felt when i began writing,

shrinking into the regret i felt when i finished.

the backspace button is a luxury i cannot afford; i will keep every word,

i will not blot away colors, because they are beautiful

like words you have to look up in the dictionary because they are so complex,

only to find out the meaning of atrophy is not nearly as beautiful as the feeling it gave you,

that caramel-apple reality turning to the dull and metal taste of blood,

i'm sorry,

this is all too much for me.