I’m nothing but a blank canvas,
So you can paint me however you like,
Red, green, blue … whatever colours,
I’ll stay put even as you hand back my heart to me on a spike.
I’m nothing but an empty page,
So you can fill me with whatever words you prefer, Sad, happy, dumb….even rage,
I’ll stay here even if you’re not sincere.
I can be the clay in your palms. Mould me into any shape you choose,
Round, square, oval….as long as I’m in your hands,
I have nothing to lose.
I’ll be your Icarus,
Fly too close to you,
And if I get consumed… anything to remain yours.
