☆ the painter ☆

I painted so many portraits of you

I forgot to look at the real person

I was standing next to 

all I saw was my flawless creation

image of my never-ending imagination

not who you were

but who I wish you would be

the pictures in my head were so striking

the strokes from my paint brush

were so overwhelmingly soft  

the oils blending into one another 

with sweet precision 

the curves and the lines all made sense somehow

but everything from your crystal eyes

to the edge of your jawline

was a meaningless redesign