11/26/16
11:59 AM
Dear Poptart,
Hi, friend!
Can we talk for a minute?
I need to find out if I hate you or not
And if not
Why?
You have to understand that for someone who can find reasons to hate nearly everyone
I hate you surprisingly little
Mostly because you're talented I will admit
I can forgive most sins when they are committed by artists
And it may make me heartless
But I cannot forgive anyone who
Has no work to harvest
At the end of the season
That's the thing about having artists for friends --
When I look at your work and it
Stuns me
Or delights me
Or intrigues me
Or frightens me
It becomes that much easier to forget your downfalls
In fact, I told you this once in such an ostentatiously obscure way that you could have never known:
You asked me for a poem
Which no one (no one) ever does
You wanted it for a picture of yours
So I gave you the first stanza:
Have you ever slept on secrets?
Have you felt them in your skin?
Have you heard them calling at your door?
And have you let them in?
But do you know why I sent you this poem?
Because it ends like this:
Now, in the kingdom of secrets and lies
She is queen, he is the king
And she has learned, if you love someone enough
You can ignore anything.
If I had sent that last stanza to you
You still would have thought nothing of it
Anyway, it makes sense to me at least
Yes, I love you
Maybe more than the others
Because it's easier to love an artist
You can love their work
And their work displays their thoughts
And their thoughts betray their feelings
And feelings are usually so well hidden that you feel like a lottery winner when you stumble across a cache of somebody's, so prominently displayed in the form of art.
Which brings me to this:
You care about my work
You are my only friend who will actually
Read my poems
Look at my drawings
Listen to what I'm trying to say
I think it's absurd that our friends know me so little
When I put myself on such obvious display
If you don't want to know me you have to
Consciously look away
The other day
You drew a baby with the ballpoint pen you stole from your sister
And I practically choked with delight when I saw it
There's something maternal
About the way you draw
And it came into full light when I saw that baby
With each stroke, each line
You are creating other worlds
You are making new people
New ways to be alive
And it shocks me how little everyone cares
Ah, well, I have a thousand more things to say to you
But a picture's worth that much, isn't it?
Everyone wants to change us, Poptart.
They want to unwrap us and toast us and serve us on a plate, even though we're perfectly delicious the way we are.
Anyhow, I realize you have no idea about any of this so I will stop now.
Your friend,
-Never
(PS: If you ever read this, I know I'm overthinking you. But maybe the person I see in you really is just a little true.)