The Charcoal Canvas

I personally don't think this piece is quite complete, but this piece has been sitting thus for quite sometime as a draft and I seem to be lost in direction to complete it. I'll experiment if incompleteness lends it any beauty....

The canvas of my mind,

was once strewn with colors.

A vibrant motif splashed across,

she certainly was,

a good painter of my mind.

She knew me for what I was,

I respected her for what she was.

Life thus was very colorful,

it all seemed to fall in place.

Till one day she decided

to look for someone more special than me.

Reasons yet hazy for me than for her,

when she decided to take my canvas

away from me.

When she decided to take herself,

away from me.

I was bad I know,

but was I this bad?

My mind was gone,

all that remained there,

was a sketch with charcoal.

Did she know,

what her shuffling out would mean to me?

Maybe she didn’t know,

maybe she didn’t care.

The charcoal canvas was all that was left of me.

Thus far, thus alone,

I took solace on loan.

Comfort was scarce,

grievance aplenty.

I had no one to blame sans me.

I stood alone, staring at nowhere,

the cascade of pain, let it start and end with me.

How bad can the face of consolation be…

If only someone could laugh out loud,

so that the noise of my sob,

is drowned in the pitch of the guffaw.