The Artist I Could Never Be: Painting You in Words

I once dreamed of being a painter…
To paint stars within the Starry Night,
To sit at the table of the Last Supper,
To make Mona Lisa smile,
To be a Da Vinci…

To be an Angelo who sculpted Adam,
Or, if not that, to be a Picasso who painted bombs
falling on Guernica,
A tragedy that sheltered a mother and child.

But fate played a cruel joke — I became a writer,
Learning to hide emotions within words.
Oh, how unfair!

I was meant to be a wizard with a paintbrush,
Not a sorcerer of words.
To weave magic on canvas,
Not to imprison feelings in letters.

I was meant to hide emotions
that you would never understand —
The ones that fall like the sun,
Smile like the moon,
And shimmer like the stars.

I had to hide them beneath ink,
Because whenever I write, you live within my words.
You are like a painting of the Starry Night,
Elegant like a Van Gogh masterpiece.