arttt

you were running
small with no bones, just clay arms and legs
and a paper mache heart that only beats when crushed
I made you out of little tools and lonely evenings
and now you're leaving
because if you love something, set it free
but oh you mean so much to me
and I hate to see the backside of you, as there's nothing there
just outlines and pencil marks.
your paper thin hair won't sway in the wind
it will tear in half
so much for doing shampoo commercials.
and tattooed on your cheek, in stale black ink,
I signed my name with fancy script
I can't even read it,
but you said that's how you knew it was good.
and I believe you, I believe you
but I can't hear you anymore
your vocal chords were drawn so thin.