fickle and indecisive,
poetic yet so frantic;
you appear to me as an art gallery that's free,
but one that exhibits a thousand surreal,
and abstract paintings of thee.

sturdy and timid,
amorous yet adorably bashful and vivid;
you appear to me as an underrated sculpture standing along the hallway,
barely admired by the crowd, but loved and remarked in the heart by your one and only.

if only i could lend these eyes,
for you to believe that in every pessimism
that devoured your mind—
equates to an adoring state of mine
i'd eternally see an ephemeral paragon in you, in times of hardship and ease