there was once a man
who loved painting
he could create worlds of his own with the flick of his fingers and
every time he created something he made love to it
as only a creator getting lost in his own world can.

he painted a woman
with strong features
unlike anyone he had ever seen
eyes that held secrets he would never know,
hands that touched things he couldn't imagine,
lips that whispered to him in his dreams,
"I am as real as you make me to be."

he often would get lost in fits of drunken rage,
wondering where she was.
he knew nothing about this woman,
as he only painted the surface.

there was so much under the paint
it made him feel a bit faint
if he thought of it for too long
so beautiful, but only
to him.

after a short time, he became obsessed.
there was something so captivating about this woman, something so real
he thought that if he kept painting she could be real
too.

years and years later,
after the paintings spilled out of his home and his soul and his cracking, wrinkled hands
he felt the sun on his cheek and his body naturally awoke.
surprised, he saw that it was still night, and he found the woman from his paintings standing right there
in front of him.

the faint glow of his lamp welcomed her, and his buzzing ears rose as he smiled a crooked, ugly yellow smile.
every cell in his body relaxed
sighing
finally.
I knew it all of these years. she is real.
I know her.

she stared at him,
taking in his words not spoken,
smiled a smile not quite human
and said to him,
"I know you too."

he coughed, spitting up the phlegm of his last cigarette.
"you're all I've wanted, all of these years. I've rejected marriage for you, knowing not even the best wife could make me forget you. I've turned down high paying jobs for you, I've ate only stale bread and old beer for months for you,
I have given up so much to devote my life to making you."

she exhaled a cold and sharp breathe, and he tightened the blanket around his body.
after the room felt like it was going to break in two,
she spoke.

"yes, but was it worth it?"

he closed his eyes in a bright acrylic daze
and died
before he had the chance to tell her that yes,
yes.
it was.