I knew a boy who liked to draw,
he drew pictures nobody saw,
he was most artistic late at night,
in the bathroom out of sight,
he drawings were different,
no paper or pen,
but he needed a bandage now and again,
we laid by the river under the stars,
he rolled up his sleeves and showed me his scars,
he felt embarrassed and looked at his shoe,
but I rolled up my sleeves and whispered,
"I draw too!"

I can't sing,
Or play the piano.
I can't draw
Like you do.

But I love you.


-- Eleanor

Beware: Do not fall in Love with an artist.

An artist is definitely the most dangerous to fall into a relationship with.
You won’t even know you’re the exact facsimile of their work.

They will tear your heart to bits,
more than likely to generate a new showpiece.

They will watch your irises go from fields in bloom to dull skies,
and your black pupils go from metallic to charcoal.

They will be able to stroke your hair softer than a paintbrush,
and watch your little detail emerge from something pallid.

They will be able to memorize the structure of your face,
then round your cheeks and chisel your dimples into rock.

They will sing lightly the melody you’ve made,
as they cling to your torso as if a life source.

Do you see the danger?
For the love of god, beware.

Draw me in pencil,
Draw me in chalk,
Draw me in bright colours,
Draw me with shades,
Or draw me paint brush
Stokes and all,
But if you draw me in your mind, do it so you never forget me at all.

Inspiration sparks
It flows and bursts into flame
I am overcome.