Paint me

He once asked me what it felt like to write poetry.
He wondered how someone so cold and distant
had the ability to make others feel so deeply.

I don’t know.
I guess that’s what I do.

Love? He asked

No.
I disguise pain with pretty words
And fear with bravery.
I paint an alternative universe.
A more perfect one.

Paint me he pleaded.
Paint me into your universe,
with your beautiful words.

I can’t. 
My canvas already
belong to someone else.

For how long?
Forever. 

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