If only I could paint.
Every word and whisper shared between lovers,
taken now as ammo to fuel this fire.
So desperately seeking to be immortalized.
Masterfully crafted and set onto a canvas
that bears the outlines of past painters.
If only I could paint.
Create a work so radiant, that the value
of affection given cannot be denied.
Or stolen by those who wield a brush
with greater skill, stabbing dot by dot
till you are laid to rest on a Sunday Evening.
If only I could paint.
Give works of art more attuned to the grand
and sweeping romance that dances in the country.
Offering better hues worth more than gold,
hung proudly in your heart. More so than these
amature scratches sketched into the dirt
If only I could paint.
In a world that demands deftness with colour,
I remain shades of grey clenching words
of love that will always fall flat at your feet.
For words are cheap and will never keep
the truth that one can, if one could paint
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