Stain Me Until I Turn To Art

Stain me with you..

until I become different.

Stain my plain empty heart,
and these hungry vulnerable lips.

I wanted you to stain me until we become each others art... until we become one.

But you stained me with pain and heartbreak.

So be it.

Stain me until I turn to art.

Stain me until these stains in my being, turn to the splatter of ink in this paper.

Taint me with all your colors until I turn it into paint on this white canvas.

Carve every piece of me until I turn into a masterpiece.

Do all these and I shall paint you with my words and my crafts.

So stain me until I become an artist... a painter, a writer.

Stain me until I become art...

so that I can create my own art...

Smear every perfect detail of my being. Taint it until it latches onto pen and paper... to brushes and canvas, 

to strings and notes, to melodies and songs.

Do this until you lose the ability to do so.

Now, that you have run empty of stains to stain me...

I want to tell you how thankful I am.

Because of these vibrant scars, I am now a beautiful masterpiece.

You stained me until I can no longer feel that these stains are dirt, rust and flaws in my being...

For these stains are no more in me.

They have become the art I now make...

—the same art that continues to devastate and pierce you today...

knowing that you lost the only masterpiece you should've had.