i wear more black
Now,
than i did
at my first funeral.
Who died?



Me?

I wanted you to fight for me,
not with me,
&against me.

My painter friend looked at me and laughed,
"I can't draw, I've told you that," I said.
"What a sad life to not be able to place your emotions on a canvas,"
he grinned.
"I don't paint but I write," I replied, "Want to know the difference?"
Intrigued he awaited for my answer,
"Your art is for the eye, but mine's for the heart."