My canvas has been blank.
I haven't painted in months,
Yet, stains from previous works remain.

As I etch my pain through art
the red ink flows
Red is my favourite colour,
I never saw red for Red
Red is lust
love
pain
blood
emotion
art
Red is in all of us.

A fortnight of fatigue,
a thirty-minute phone call.
I feel the need to draw again,
Pour my feelings onto a page.
I want to feel Red again.

Red is your favourite colour
I want to feel Red again
I want to feel
(red)
I want to feel anything
Blue

I'm the poet, not the poem
Poets write the beauty on the page
Your face in mind, as if it's all i know.
I changed what i was for what you want me to be
I write silently that one day you'll notice me.
Not her, not him

Me.

I write and wait and pray to god,
That my decision isn't too late.

I'm the poet, not the poem
I express myself with words.
I can't sing you perfect chords
Or shoot you a casual smile.

I'm too shy to speak out loud.
I write my feeling to you through poetry.
I'm not pretty enough for you to just notice me.
You need to look and search for a reason to like me.

I'm not as pretty as the girl you like.
She's brown, I'm blue
She's fake, I'm true
She's not the poet.
She's the poem.

I force myself to like what you do.
You like rock, I like roll
God, your existence is taking a toll.

I'm sick of chasing, I'm sick waiting for your text.
I'm sick of making the first move.
I'm sick of waiting

If I was the poem, You'd read me like book,
get to know every cranny and nook
You'd read all my beauty and know me for that.
Another girl would be the poet.
She'd wish she was me

She'd wish she was blue, not brown
Wish she could make you smile, not frown
I'd write myself into this perfect poem

So she'd wish she was the poet