I exist in everyone's head or heart
a different person;
not everyone will have
the kindest image of me painted
some will meet me at a vulnerable time
paint me with wide brush strokes or
harsh dark lines that only seem impenetrable
to protect myself from decoloration

the details in a large painting matter less--
and I can't help but feel like maybe
we were too ambitious with art of this size
too many details added in too quickly
and the canvas is left mostly blank
did you know, love, that a complex canvas
woven of good, strong, fabric
holds more paint than a shallow gloss?

spend a minute looking at my angles
the shadows you've drawn across my face
is this how you've chosen to see your subject
or is this who I really am?
are you drawing what you really see
or just what you think you see?
look closer, try again to paint me as I am
see my many layers of colour and shape

because baby, maybe I am a piece of work
but you're no artist, either