Drawing.

A short… thing.  Poem? I don’t know. Not really.

I want to tear it into little pieces, and hopefully it’ll erase the thoughts of ever wanting your touch, to begin with. That if I kill the art, perhaps i’ll kill the beauty inside it
and inside you.
The only problem is, is that you’re completely pure. To murder true beauty would be a sin, and I should not take pain out on a heart already half broken. Instead, i’ll lock away the sketch and pray someone just as pure and beautiful crosses my way.