I feel as though my feelings are muted

Covered under the brightest of flowers

Tangled in a mess of pitch black hair

A piercing scream

It stabbed my ears

I turn to a pile of drawings

It fumes at me.

“Your mothers tears”

“Your fathers back”

“Two disappointed eyes”

I cut them off

With a lighter

The drawings

quietly burn

the whispers

slipping I

waited and

watched confused

I have never seen my mothers tears

“She never dared to cry”

I have never seen my fathers back

“He never trusted me with it”

I have never seen those eyes

“I never looked back”

Through my overgrown bangs

All I could see now was a burnt mess

All safely nestled In my hands.

I hold the mess close to my heart

So maybe one day

The color will bleed on to it