I'm a jack-of-all-trades
good at nothing
good for nothing
I've never learned how to swim
or play an instrument
I can't drive a car
or write anything well
or carve your name in the stars
where it deserves to be

and I've never created
a single thing I've felt proud of
but I can cheer you on
watch you swim laps
from the shallowest end of the pool
and get excited when you publish
your capital "L" Literature
I'll cover you in glitter
so you'll shine to the ends of the galaxy
then we'll watch how every star in the night sky
blinks your name in morse code

you define who you are
by maybes and not-so-bads
as boundaries disappear between us
I see a filled canvas of colour
every brush stroke placed perfectly
you are the epicentre of art
truth and beauty collide

but-
some truth you have yet to uncover:
no one of us is complete
everything disowned can be recovered
your inhibitions are fantasy
you cannot maintain a status quo
that makes you unhappy
or expect happiness in the static

instead, invest in yourself
you need time to grow
a thousand seeds in a desert
will never create a garden
just as a thousand compliments
will never bloom if you don't
first learn
to love yourself

I don't remember the last time of real heartbreak.
I remember losing loyalty, losing interest.
Things don't always work, or resentment's mistake.
But I can't remember when I ever felt shattered
From the mere idea of living without someone.
Like my entire being tattered, pieces in the wind scattered.
Like some whole void of emptiness;
Everything gouged out of me like it never even mattered.
I remember being abandoned.
I remember being alone.
But I can't remember feeling like my life left too,
Like it was never even my own.
I guess I wanted it to be ours instead.
I guess I wanted too much.
I guess there was no "destiny's red thread."
I wish I didn't still yearn for your touch.
I don't know what to do with a life without you.
I was told I had so much ahead,
But from where I am, I can hardly move.
How long would it take to forget?
Is that even something on which I can bet?
I don't think I've ever felt real love for someone
So selflessly, so hopefully,
Like I did this less year.
How long will it take to live a life without you
When I'm surrounded by distraught and fear?
You were the water to my flowers,
You were the northern star in my nights,
You were the fire in my engine.
But now it's dark and you're nowhere in sight.
What is a life worth if not for love?
In which direction do I go?
This fever wears me, my mourning dove.
But I will make it through the night,
If only to anticipate
A notification's gentle light.

first

find the most interesting, beautiful, and important part of your figure;
observe with fresh eyes, and new hands
until you can touch the figure in your mind

but

do not hold him just yet.

transform him to his most basic and essential qualities.
observe the way light plays against his skin, the darker shadows under his neck, the curve of his lips
the muscles along his arms and blood in his veins
holding your brush with care, start an outline

go slow at this stage

find a way to capture his gaze.
a gaze away could mean disinterest or distraction
an animated gaze forward means your figure is engaged

next

trace him with your brush
focusing on the base of his neck,
his broad, naked shoulders,
his back and the curves that connect to his thighs.

when you have an outline: wait

wait until you hear the pounding of your own heartbeat
paint the feeling of his hands against your hips
wait until you feel his lips brush up against
the base of your neck,
your slender, naked shoulders,
your back
your stomach
and lower

at this very moment, you feel yourself painted by him

you become a shade, a highlight, a smudge back into the canvas
and he pulls you in closer
until you both become one image

you watch him as he takes your paint brush away
you are naked and you do not remember if he painted
your clothing off with a brush of his own
or if you took them off yourself

such trivial detail is not essential to the big picture

this is when the real picture is painted
when you yourself become a series of circles and textures
and your body no longer feels real

you are two figures, ready to be painted

you capture this moment.