the “me” i made for you
you do not love me.
how could you?
when we met,
i lifted a blank canvas up
and began to paint a portrait.
the person i painted was funny
in all the ways you found funny,
and sarcastic
in all the ways you would understand,
and kind
in all the ways you would appreciate.
i would add a splash of colour
or a bold line
every time you mentioned something new
every time i could make it more appealing to you.
with a disagreeing wince or judgemental eyes,
i would grab the white and paint over the imperfections.
that’s not to say i didn’t bare flaws onto the portrait,
but only the ones you could believe as redeemable
with your own pencil and rubber,
smudging the lines of it’s harshness.
did it make you feel good?
see?
you do not love me.
you love the version of me
that i painted just for you.
but the paint has dried
and you’re starting to see the brush lines.
FEEDBACK: