Dear you,
There’s a quote that says:
“Art lies. That’s one of the things it does best. And if it does it right it points to some kind of truth every time.”
So tell me, what kind of art were you trying to make?
Do you consider my broken heart some kind of masterpiece?
There was nothing artful about your lies except that they did indeed point me to the truth
The truth that you probably don’t care about me
The truth of how likely it is that you never did
I don’t wanna believe it
But it seems that you painted it clearly in every ignored text, every harsh word, every blank expression in the face of my pain
Your brush strokes of indifference painted my heart black and blue from the emotional abuse you put me through
You took the parts of me I gave you and sculpted me even more laden with baggage than I used to be
You made sure to spin me around and around on your wheel of games
Sticking me in the kiln of your momentary passion only to take me out to cool too soon
Leaving me cracked and broken
While I cross states of mind the words said and ones left unspoken
take their toll
My name one of many on a list showing that I’m another ego boosting token
and that you’re out of control
We both had a part to sing but we could find no harmony
Harming each other
My words barbs to you
Your silence screaming at me
[Pause]
Maybe, just maybe it’s not me who is the art here
After all, based on the quote it says that ART lies and that’s one of the things it does best
You had the audacity to tell me you loved me
And maybe just maybe in some way you did or you do
But your actions tended to show snapshots of something different
The pictures that developed in the darkroom reflected that a lot went down in your dark bedroom
Like your respect for me and mine for you and purity that used to be between us two
We call ourselves Christians but we could not be bothered
To let God get in the way of what we wanted from each other
I wanted to see truth in you so badly I cut up my hands digging through the shards of your lies
Attempting to solder our jagged attempts at being better into some kind of stained glass friendship
Trying to craft beauty out of something that perhaps cannot be mended
I would do almost anything for you, like some starved artist begging the lies to show me the truth
Like some starved artist hungry for the truth while the lies devour you….and me
But stained glass windows don’t need to speak to tell stories, and your silence speaks volumes now doesn’t it darling

At the end of the day amidst all the hurt and pain this much is true: I still care about you
It might not make sense and you might not care, but I do
After all, in reality we’re both masterpieces
Sure, we’ve got some chipped paint
Some broken parts
Our frames may hang a bit crooked
Our color schemes might seem off
Maybe we don’t see ourselves as gallery worthy
Maybe nobody we know would want to display us in their halls
I mean, who do you know that would opt to hang a mess up on their walls?
But there is beauty in brokenness and sometimes art gets messy
After all we were made from dirt- the creator probably didn’t keep his hands clean
I want you to see the masterpiece that I see
So you stop scribbling over your life with lies to cover up the true art that’s underneath
The image of your Creator that somewhere inside runs deep
That’s what I wanna see
But even amidst the pain and brokenness and shame and lack of openness
I still see you beautifully…after all, you are a masterpiece
Now if only you could see the art that awakes when you put the lies to sleep
You have eyes but sometimes it’s like you’re blind to reality
Abstract art is great but how can you stay grounded to create if you don’t believe in gravity?
Do you not see the gravity of your depravity that you’re choosing to make your mentality?
Death could be the outcome if you cling to this corrupt morality
Your choices aren’t a movie you have to play on repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat
Take a step towards the ultimate Director, trust me His script is better
It doesn’t matter how many girls you can get into your bedsheets
Only God can make you whole so let Him take the driver’s seat
Please, please, please
We are masterpieces
We are the Master’s pieces….
Only He can break our chains
After all, isn’t it great when art is free?
Love, me