ink and paint

my hands are stained
with ink and paint
and with the memory of you
i tried to wash it off
but the irregular shapes form my emotions
and i see you
every time i try to take them off
i see your face so bright as ever
your pain shining within
the ink is dry
it can't come off
just like you can't come in
there is a low fire burning in your pupils
and your words sting and wound my heart
but i can't change it now
can i?
the ink is drying off.
that's the thing i've always said
and it has always made u angry
you did not understand the urgency
of a heart skipping a beat
if it's still beating, why bother?
the ink is drying off.
the cold wind slaps you in the face
you pretend it's fake and you succeed
it slaps me too
we're here together
but you don't mind
the ink is drying off.
i see the fire in your eyes
it's so violent it burns me
but in some time
it won't because
the ink is drying off

articol scris de Anastasia Hangiu

fotografia de Delia Ivașcu