You painted me not just on canvas
or walls but on your heart.
You gave me wings and you
are certain I will always land back
to you.

I wrote you, not just on paper
or walls but on my heart.
I gave you the power of the sun
and I know you'll shine forever.

But lately my wings can't fly
and everytime I stretch them,
all I can feel is your hands.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.

And lately, the sun hides
and everytime I look a the moon,
all I can read is
lonely.
Lonely.
Lonely.

Darling, you know we're amazing.
We create things people marvel at.

Maybe you'll paint me a picture
and maybe I'll write you a poem.
But until we finally figure out
what I mean to you and
what you mean to me,

maybe  you should keep your colors
and I should keep my words.