You said my art was verse,
But I knew my art was you,
It was simple, it didn't rhyme,

It didn't need to.

I spill out my thoughts every night...
I do it to chronicle everything we say to each other,
The tiny interactions that are thawing my heart that I'd rather not forget.

You see, my brain isn't made like yours,
And there are gaps in my past.

Like Michelangelo did carve his marble or Rodin did shape his mass of bronze, I shape my words so I cannot forget these steps that I take,

One by one with you.

I interpreted Rembrandt as Sadness.
I interpreted van Gogh as Suffering.
I interpreted Titian without Sincerity.
I interpret you simply as Love.

You are art, you do not know.

I don't remember all the paintings I've seen,
And if you are to fade along with them, I'd prefer to fade as well.