Spilled Paint

It's still a masterpiece.

By Erica ScottPublished 11 months ago • 1 min read

Photo by russn_fckr on Unsplash

I’m like the paint you try to re-do when you mess up,

The kind that streaks your canvas,

And makes you want to give up.

I’m the blue that bleeds into all the other colors,

Making them darker than you wish,

Forcing you to start again.

I’m the bubble of pigment that doesn’t seem to dry,

No matter how long it’s left in the sun.

I’m the painting left on the floor,

The one that helps you create what you first had in mind.

You’ll step over me as you hang the new,

And I’ll weep,

Knowing I was always too much for you.

heartbreak sad poetry

About the Creator

Erica Scott

A young adult, self-proclaimed poet from Florida who writes from a place of uncertainty, just hoping to one day reach the depths of someone else's heart besides her own.

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