Pictures and Paints.

If I could sketch you into words

I wonder what word would you be.

Pretty, beautiful, tormented poetry,

Or rains and sunshine of glee. 

If I could sketch you into words 

And paint a picture so deserving

Of all the love you could ever

Wrap and present back to me. 

Would it be a Rembrandt or a Da Vinci?

Or those city clocks that chime,

Despite the time it shows, not right

At least not for me. 

Too many people, too many voices,

Too much of saying "Hey it'll be fine."

Or "Calm down." "Just Breathe. One. 

Two. Three. Four." And I lose it.

There's too many people, too many voices, too much rush but very little of you. 

If I could only say it all

The way I anxiously do

In my miserable mind making

Memories macabre and talking 

To myself mockingly. Mentioning 

Musical muses and vague nuances,

That fidget spinners don't seem to help

And counting numbers only bring me closer to death. 

And Clutching onto soft balls or my phone tight never makes it right 

Because I'd rather hold onto you. 

I try to make way through the crowd blocked by a jetty.

A rather amusing picture of my soul so messy. 

And sometimes I wonder what normal feels like. 

Walking into a room with that smile

And saying "Hey. I'd love to have a conversation but you know what,

I guess writing's fine."

If I could only tell you all of it

That goes on and on in my mind...

I hope the clocks tick right that time

And you hear the perfect chimes,

Out loud, this time. 

Only if I could sketch you into words,

I would be the best of the artists alive,

For my picture would be you.