Grieving

Dipping a hand in the paint, feeling its chill,
I raise it to the wall, dripping blackness.
I ponder if I should just finger paint the white wall black,
Or maybe let the aching inside out.

I point a finger and start shaping an eye,
And before I know it I have your face staring back at me.
It always makes my heart squeeze to look at you, even now,
A half hazard sketch trickling down the wall, melting.

I place my other hand where your chest would be,
But all I feel is hard cold concrete; how fitting.
Rage filters inside, and I smash a fist against your nose,
Painting it red, bringing my life into a ghost.

I grab the can of paint and empty it on the wall,
A desperate attempt to obliterate all memory of you.
Drops bounce off to hit my bleeding knuckles, stinging,
Even now you manage to hurt me.

I've made a mess of it again.
You haunt me everywhere I go,
And I'm powerless against it.
How could you leave, and make me promise to stay?