Sketchbook

You drew me on your sketchbook

Felt like you spilled your heart on the pages

Now the portrait's just a memory

The love we had has fallen through the ages

The way every stroke you made on the paper

Somehow, I felt them on my skin

I was so afraid to let you in my heart

But that day I let our story begin

When you painted each part of my face

I imagined your hands embracing me

You did not touch my skin at all

But you touched my soul with your love's purity

With every colour in your palette

You made my plain self vibrant

Oh how much I envied the joy you have within yourself

And your intentions so pure and innocent

And one day it all started disappearing

As if I've spilled water on the picture

No matter how hard I wanted it back

I found you moving even farther

The painting's gone

As if it never was there

A sketchbook which started a love so epic

Now there, remains an empty page