Poetry

The Girl You Come Back To

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I don’t want to be treated like some piece in an art gallery

A painting that you look at but don’t stop to study

Because its colors aren’t bright enough, and of course our outsides portray what we are on the inside

And so you continue along through the gallery, and you find a painting made with blinding yellows and soft sky blues, perfect pinks blending with happy oranges

You’re studying this painting, beautiful to the eyes, but you realize this work is only canvas deep

Because behind the bright colors, who is she, what does she make you feel?

Your eyes see it, but your heart does not feel it

So you wander along, not heading anywhere specific but knowing where you’ll end up

And you come across me again

The painting with deep reds and muffled indigos, smudged greens and an array of melancholy browns

You stand for a moment, wondering what’s different this time

And you realize that the painting hasn’t changed; no, you have

You realize that you don’t want a love that’s only skin deep

You realize that you want the intentions and the feelings and the time and patience and dedication and the hard work that comes with a masterpiece

And so you take a seat on the cold wood floors, pull out your notepad, and start taking notes

“the blue is only in the center. maybe she’s trying to hide the sad parts of herself”

“the red is all along the edges. maybe she’s trying to give all the love she has, and nobody’s taking it”

“the browns are throughout, painted on with heavy strokes. maybe those are her passions, deep and strong, though they may not always appear so”

“the greens are always near the reds. maybe that is her fear, overcome only by the good things”

 

Just a quick little poem I wrote one night. I haven’t had much time to write, or do anything for that matter, because I’ve been so busy (just like every other teenager) with school, rehearsals for our school show, and performances for another show I’m currently in. Hopefully I’ll get some me time soon? Who knows.

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