Were the world mine,
I would make it just for you.
Every breeze would whisper your name
and carry it smoothly through the autumn leaves.
Every wave would crash
and collapse in surrender of your beauty.

Were the world mine,
birds would sing of you day and night.
No wrong note would fill the Earth
and each creature would sing with the utmost delight.

Were the world mine,
no person or creature would ever harm you.
Nothing could come between us,
and no act of nature break our bond.

Were the world mine,
The worlds light would shine from you.
You would be the sun and the moon,
and your incandescent smile the stars.
I would orbit within your space.

Were the world mine,
all this would be true.
Yet the world is not mine,
but you are my world.

I've been told no so many times,
you think I would be numb to it.
But somehow it still hurts.

That's the problem with being an artist.
In all my paintings and all my words,
you can see what I feel.

So he can see if I was thinking about him,
or if I was still thinking about you.

The issue isn't "failing."
It's if we choose to let failure stop us from getting up and trying again.

I shouldn't care that you are dating.
I should not have allowed my heart to skip a beat
when you said, "Yes I am."

I should not feel a sense of pain
like someone twisted a thorn that was never removed from my side.
Reminding myself that a small part of you remained,
and that it could still *hurt.