A pink-lipped mouth,
Like a slit in a sheet,
Babbles you out – slurred and imperfect.
Praise greets you
In your jumbled imperfections.

Then you couldn’t leave.
Pushed around a lollipop and a glob of saliva.
Shouted from pearly teeth
And screamed from the backseat
Until they all wished you would leave.

A black-headed pen,
Like a mighty sword,
Scratches you out – black and bold.
A shiny figure
Dancing across a sea of whiteness.

Then you were a confession,
Poured from a silly heart and a petty mind.
Scratched in pink
And dotted with hearts.
Until you were taken for granted.

A blood-red lip,
Like a bleeding rose,
Snaps you out – mean and cruel.
A streak of hatred
Poured into the world.

Then you were unforgettable.
Pushed around a cork and a slog of liquor.
Shouted from across the street
And screamed from the hall
Until you were hated.

A black-leather cover,
Like a sea of blackness,
Spits you out – beaten and bruised,
A worn and bleeding figure,
But perfect at last.

Then you were magic.
Bleeding from white paper and
staining blank minds.
Bled at the fireplace
And in the library.
Until they understood your beauty.

A deserted world,
Like an eternal blackness,
Clutches onto you – old and used.
A pre-made entity,
Left in the world in place of the dead.

Then you were many.
A memory or a mystery.
An echo or a eulogy, a book or a blot.
You were all that was left of them,
Until you were everything.

You are many things.
Sometimes you are beautiful,
But mostly you are ugly.
Sometimes you are kind,
But mostly you are cruel.
But everlasting is one thing you always are.

Then I will die,
And you will be left
In the words that I spoke
And the ones that I wrote
The ones I misused
And the ones I made beautiful.

Of anything you can be,
I beg only a single thing.
That you may be
A fitting legacy
For the words that were me.