I once met a painter
she had some promising talent
her hands traced figures in her white canvas
and gave so much detail to every single movement

I once met a painter
she always had her hair in a ponytail
her eyes weren't amazing
but they were great
at least that's the only thing she appreciated
in herself.

The painter drew me a picture
it was a landscape
two trees and grass
the trees had and amazing mixture of red and yellow and wine
and the grass was made up of tears and some goodbyes
the painter never came back
the painter never could
the painter lost herself
between a canvas
and some wounds.