You're an artist.

You've painted your world
in perfect black and white.
Thick lines with definition.
There's nothing grey here.
You're precise in your decisions.
No color. No curves.
Only black and white.
Nothing more, nothing less.

Then you met me.

Where do I fit in?
I don't match this puzzle.
But, still, you've decided to
paint me into your picture.
A bright pink rose amidst
your black and white decor.
I'll stand out like charcoal
in a room full of diamonds.
No matter how much blending
and smearing you do,
I'll still be the pink
in your black and white world.

I'm going to ruin your painting.

I never asked to be painted
in the first place.
That's the last thing I want.
Paint is too permanent.
I'd rather be drawn in pencil.
Easily erased and forgotten.
So fuck me one more time
tell me that you love me
and I'll tell you I don't care.
I'll shatter you eventually.
You're formed with glass
and I with stone.
This could never work.
Continue your mission
a black and white world.
Don't let me break you down.
Forget I ever existed
and I'll walk away quietly.

But I'm keeping the rose.

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