If I could paint your every detail
and drown your profile in colors
and let them ooze life into the canvas,
I’d miss a million of your hues,
and if I could write my passions,
into sonnets and quatrains
and pour out my heart and soul
I’d lose thousands of your wonders
but if I could give you all my trust
and loan you my heart
just for you to throw them away
I’d rather leave than stay.
but I know that I couldn’t stray.
My canvas will then grey
if you refuse to stay
and if I'm the one you use
my poetry will be blue.