I am a Writer

A Poem by AnkoStone

It was between me and an artist, and he chose her pastels over my print.

Maybe he loved you because of the picture, but I gave him words. I had painted him pictures in his mind that you’re tools are never going to be able to recreate. He loves you because you don’t make him think. Pictures are easy to read. It’s easier to see the love when you draw it out. I made him think though. I made him close his eyes and listen to my words because maybe he doesn’t know it, but they are engraved in his mind. And years from now when your paintings have faded my words will still ring in his mind. And he’ll wonder where they came from. Because you never gave him words. You showed him your love. I told him, using words you can’t paint. Words you will never be able to use as your own.

I am a writer. Maybe I can’t show him how much I love him. But my love will haunt him forever. I leave ghosts on your mind. He won’t see your love forever. But he will forever know mine.