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.
