Blank canvas

Here i try to write but, without you my pages are as blank as a canvas in the night, my blood runs cold with pain and hatred for my self, for why did i leave? I left to heal the pain and hatred i craved so deeply and painted for my self and in my image I am not good but, in yours i am everything but, to everyone what is everything is everything a thing or a person? Or just a feeling? For these feelings i feel so deeply its hard to know which is right is it right to love you or to leave you because to love someone you have to let them go but, to let go means i won't have you anymore and maybe just maybe that'll be okay