The Portrait

I draw my thoughts and feelings

On your face,

Imagining they are

Your own,


And put such words between your lips

As you would never say;

To me

It matters not


That you do not exist

The way I see you:

A book in progress

I complete too soon


An empty canvas, which I over-paint

With meaning,

But dry paint cracks, and you emerge –

The true you I don’t know

10 thoughts on “The Portrait

      1. Thank you for writing such a wonderful poem. I always love finding great poems – it’s not often that I come across something that really stands out like yours.

    1. One almost always sees what (s)he chooses to see of another person. A lot of the ‘portraits’ we paint in our minds look nothing like the ‘models’ they were meant to depict.

    1. Thank you for reading, Carl! What I’m trying to describe here is, I think, one of the many ways of slowly falling out of love with someone as you get to know them. I wonder if it is not inevitable.

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