Published by: Athena Palatino
Date Published: August 18, 2025
Time Published: 8:40 AM
Category: Poetry
Theme: The loss of one’s innocence through a toxic love
For he loves art
Like bestowed colors deep in his heart.
She offered him a canvas clear,
A fragile glass she held so dear.
She longed for strokes of gentle light,
Where mournful blues won’t steal the sight;
A painting to be painted with love,
A world unspoiled, pure and above.
He took the brush with tender care,
Moved as if the canvas was delicate—
There's no rush, just calm and full of trust,
All the bright colours, vivid and intricate.
Yet as the moon passed through the night,
The canvas lost its eager light;
His strokes grew sharp with a bristled wire,
Hints of wrath beneath the ire.
His brush began to falter slow,
And harder reds began to show;
The canvas sighed beneath the weight
Of shadows creeping in too late.
She felt a chill where warmth had been,
A mirrored truth she could not spin:
Reflection cracked, the glass betrayed,
A jagged heart she could not shade.
She wished for nothing but happiness,
But darkness seeped through every crease;
She smashed the mirror in her dread,
And knew—long before the colors bled.
In the final hush, no cries remain;
No blood, no screams, no pleas for pain.
Poor maiden—looked upon the glass,
Cried in her hour last—for she was the canvas.
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