Paint brush

Today I took my paint brush and painted over myself, over all my flaws and all that I am.

I became a blank canvas, erasing myself from existence with only a couple of strokes.

But what I couldn’t erase was what I left behind when I was gone, not the tears that were shed or the sorrow I caused.

Nor the long nights of restless sleep many got, and the thousands of questions they asked themselves wondering why.

Brothers without a sister, a mother and father without their daughter, a partner without their lover.

All of it; Gone.

I can’t wake up tomorrow and look up at the stark blue sky ever again, or sit far too long in the car to hear my favorite song.

I won’t be there for my best friends wedding, and I’ll never spend another weekend finding random things to do just to spend extra time with my dad.

I won’t be able to kiss my partner ever again, or feel the warmth of their embrace as I’m sleeping at night.

I can’t spoil my cats with far too many treats and cuddles anymore.

All of it, all of you will be left to live in sorrow and wonder.

But I will be no more.

Where there once was softness, now all had turned to stone.

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