a painting of black and red

oh God, everytime i look at that painting of his, my knees go weak. all i am able to do is ask myself why. the painting of pain lives up to its name, and striked right through my beating heart. i cant stop questioning myself, as if searching for a justification. i know it's partly my fault, but dont people get second chances. too quick to judge.

and the trail ends there. i didnt bring it back with me. i want to, but i just cant and wont. i dont want it to haunt me. but that painting, i underestimated. it gives me goosebumps and wells up my tearduct.

it is more difficult than i thought.



p/s: ok maybe i miss him just a tad. ugh.