You snatch the purity

From a once so flawless complexion.

The lines on your face tell a story,

Page upon page of empty words

That mean nothing to me anymore.

Still, I read on like a child,

As if, somehow

I’m mesmerised by the tales

Of an enchanted life.

They are laced with wonder

But shadowed by truth.

In those pictures my smile is drawn,

The smile of a little girl

Who used to be me.

Now she is gone and I see

A faded portrait

Of my face, painted grey

And a blank canvas,

Awaiting the day

When you find it in your heart

To paint me into your pictures

Once again.

The palette is bare, your brush gone dry,

And yet, a finished portrait hangs

Proudly on the wall.

I see two, but there are three;

If you remember back in time,

When that little girl smiled

The innocent smile

That could melt the coldest of hearts.

Her portrait faded long ago,

Gathering the dust

Of a lifetime.

But when the story’s ended,

And the pictures are bronzed and torn,

Remember it was me that you painted grey.

©2004 Fluff.

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Hello all, I thought I would post some of my old stuff just out of curiosity as to what you think lol. This piece was written when I was 15. Thanks, Fluff x