if our love
was meant to be,
why is it
that you were
the only one
who can't see?

you were my muse,
the creative influence
in my poetries;
the inspiration
to my many
tales of heartbreaks,

a performer,
you sang the
songs of sorrow
that played in
my heart;
yet I found myself
singing along

your presence
is a unique form
of abstract art,
and I was the curator
that knew
your real value

I am no longer
a starving artist,
but even I had once
dreamed a dream
we'll be making
art together again
someday

all these items used
to describe my love
for you;
but I'm the one
treated like
an object
in this relationship