When a Writer Falls in Love With an Artist

And, yes, I did love you
And I gave to you
All of my favorite pens
I cradled them in my arms
And they overflowed
Like I was just waiting to surrender them
To you

Letting them drip into your lap
The writings that always were
And always have been
About you

Pouring out
With greater magnitude
Than poetry can claim credit for
And so, yes, I gifted every one of them
To you

I waited
I craved
And I starved
For your nonchalant glances
Or the hope that maybe
You would give something (anything) back
To me

And I always wished you weren’t
Like everyone else (but of course you are)
And there are still days I feel numb
And dazed and dizzy with my affections
For you

Wishing I hadn’t handed
Every last secret and soft
And intimate thought
Into your supple and abstract
Artist hands

And maybe one day
It won’t be so bad

But until then
I don’t think I can handle
Giving you anymore
Just to watch you leave the caps off
The ink run dry
As you quietly whisper,
“I like pencils better"

Reviews

[Onlyme]

To give all your heart and soul to your muse. Or even lover. And then to get a kick in the butt later. Is wicked and cruel. But sadly life does go on. Great poem.

[Robert Trakofler]

f**k yes that's awesome! i'm thinking gosh it's nice i'm not the only one! thank you for sharing this. i like your flow i love your subject matter and i love how you presented it. Great symbology particularly the pencils line at the end what a great slap! I'm so sorry for your pain and I am quite familiar with it sorry to say.