You always look at me and ask
"Why don't you ever draw me?"
And I'll shrug you off
And say
"You're too beautiful for paper"
And you would get angry.
But it's the truth, so you shouldn't be mad.
I can draw just about anyone.
I can even draw dogs and cats
and toasters too.
But I will never
be able
to put
You
On
Paper.
I can't pull the sparkles out of your eyes and trap them in a brush stroke.
I can't get the slight
Pout
Of your mouth just right.
I can't capture your laugh,
Or your chuckle,
Or your giggle.
I can't capture your mischief
Or your tease.
I can draw you,
But
.
.
.
It wouldn't really be
You.
I can draw your sharp chin,
The small smear of freckles
That dance across your face,
And your left front tooth that sticks out just a hair further then the right.
I can attempt to draw the bouncy-curly-thick-monster of hair that you beat into submission. But I'd probably still get that wrong.
Because
You have that one curl that is a perfect
Ringlet, you know,
The one you always tug on when you're sleepy. The rest of your crown of curls changes day to day, like a thousand strands of gold and Mahogany, swished around your face.
I wish I could draw you
Because
I want you to see yourself
Through my eyes.
Feel my love
From the source.
But I will
Never
Be
Able
To
Draw
Or paint
Or sculpt
How Beautiful you really are.
So just take my word for it,
If I could draw you the way you are,
I would every day
For the rest of my life.
