You keep the poet in me alive,
and the words running through my veins.
Every time you break my heart.
You give me the gift of a muse,
for my misery in exchange.
I paint murals of elegant words.
Sojourn museums of elaborate memories.
Build cathedrals of poetical prayers.
You keep the artist in me alive,
and the paint dripping from my fingers.
Foolishly trying to illustrate
something beautiful from these ashes.