Because your art is no longer appealing to these eyes, I know now that it’s time to let go of the slivers that I have let fester. I have let fester a hope that you would be more than an naked mannequin in a J C. Penny window.
Because the colors of your piece bled into the linen I am wrapped in. I will not be stained of you. But instead, I will become my own master piece that will appeal in someone else’s home and heart.
Because the frame around you has rotted with the deception of others, you chose to punish me for their vacancies and cruelties. Though still, I will not just override, but divide like the Moss rose in your neighbors yard. And my colours will bloom like the sunset at nine.