I am an artist.
I never chose to be but as long as I can remember art was near,
There was no first meeting, no awkward first impression.
It was always right there.
Art is a part of me, a quality written in my biology it’s my personality.
I can’t escape the urge to create,
To illustrate the beautiful picture in my mind,
To encapsulate feelings, project ideas, perfect a masterpiece.
I am an artist I paint;
I paint in hues colors and strokes.
I paint in words sewn together as delicate as a feather,
Yet as painful as a healing wound.
I cower every time I hear them being read aloud
Because these words are windows straight into my thoughts.
Leaving me feeling vulnerable, that’s why some art is unutterable.
Best portrayed using a paintbrush.
Coating the canvas with every color of the spectrum and every spectrum of emotion. Watching the pigments flow with no resistance,
A brush sweeping softly or with deep solid strokes
Always flawless because creativity can never be mistaken
It only awakens new perspectives perfected by the artist
Portraying her ideas precisely.
I am an artist because losing my self in art is my passion,
A distraction, imagine the endless horizons.
Art is the closest thing to magic,
A paintbrush the closest to a wand,
And an artist the closest to becoming an enchanter.

a gold hue laced the clouds in the sky
while the calm blue covered it,
reminiscent of a scene from a painting

with the cool tones composing the base,
the artist continued adding warm tints,
giving the piece a unified appearance

then i thought, "what if people were created this way?”
from how you appear and move,
it’s almost as if an artist imagined you

your dark hair lays flat but holds softness,
your dimples emerge the moment you smile,
and your lips purse whenever you’re in thought

your laughter is more melodious than a thousand choirs
selflessness is a rare thing, but it’s your best trait
and your passion and spirit can make anyone a believer

is it possible that some people were just born perfect?
all perfectly proportioned and envisioned?
with a charm that you can sense by how they go about life?

perhaps the idea is a little too farfetched
since we can never truly be sure of the process
but when i look at you,

i see a masterpiece

A new thing you imagine is art. Space is the masterpiece of abstract art. Emptiness is a Canvas. Standing in front of it, an image which you thought is the art representing own-self. Angle of strokes, depth of colors, shadows of hue shapes the expression and gives life to it. A emptiness filled by your delighted thought is a naive art, a judgement you do about your thought with own-self is a virtual art. Rest of the people, who understand your self-judgement creates the real Art.

Here is how, a piece of paper turns invaluable.
This applies to poetry too.