You

The brush falls heavy to the canvas
my hand striking the colors
every stroke uneven and thin
but all I can see is the beauty in your face

Brown lines create your strong jaw and cheeks
I have memorized every curve of your skin
the simple place where your mouth has chosen to rest
that my dear, is where I chose to begin
Softly softly I add to your cheeks a blush
and wistfully I imagine you're thinking of me
pinks and reds and pinks again
as if my painting could really change what really is
I continue adding to the fantasy

Your nose I like best
I wish I could have saved it for last
but alas noses are in the middle of the confusion
so the best of this is to be created next
Lifting my hand more gently
I make shadows where shadows are often seen
a masterpiece within a face so complete
my rendition cannot render perfectly
a nose that is simply beyond pristine

Eyes are said to make or break a portrait
for if they aren't right the entire work has no point
I should have started with your dark pupils first
but I couldn't bring myself to have them staring at me
Reminding me cruelly of the past
in which you're so completely intwined

It is now that I'm forced to examine
why I have taken on this crazy notion
was heartache really a fair price for this project?
Or maybe I should have consulted my head
but I'm so afraid it will raise it's hand and object
push away the thoughts push away the doubt
and just as fast as I had begun to realize my reasons
I turn a blind eye and refocus on the strangest thing I have come to know

No matter how I try no matter how I mix
the colors I create cannot compare to the nearly black
of the eyes that make me melt
and the paint it mocks me from where I keep it in my heart
telling me always that the portrait could be perfect
yet I will never be enough

After the eyes
(which I must tear myself from
though they haunt me still)
I find your hair to be easy and natural to create
the brown bits nearly matching
the unattainable shade of your eyes
the dyed parts artificial streaks of who you wish you were
Yes, your hair may seem insignificant
but to me, after the eyes that brought tears to my own
it is a saving grace

Suddenly I realize most uncertainly
I have come to the part
that I hate the most
after the labor and the toil and the trouble
after the emotion that seemed to bubble out of me
and spill upon the canvas
I must step back and for the first time see
with my own mind that can hardly grasp
the finished work I dreaded ever to do

And I notice the little spots I didn't even think about
like the ears and the throat and the teeth all lined up
how did I forget to give them the attention you deserve?
Beautiful eye brows and lashes done with care
yet my memory fails to recall when I painfully detailed
those features upon features in

In a gallery they say
how much for the piece?
But I shake my head claiming with confidence
they're asking too high
The portrait is poorly done compared
to the unassuming subject whose name I cannot speak
and they look at me blankly turn away and mutter words
For they do not understand in this gallery of art and intangible opinions
that you were the only one I could never hold

The brown lines add up
as I sit on the ground legs neatly crossed
across from my work long after the closing time has passed
For I know now
as I look towards the door
and I wish for the unthinkable for the final time
that you will never show
never know the ache I shall feel for a lifetime
the scar I will wear for eternity
For you are the strangest thing I have ever come to know