It's A Poem


As he sits there in his chair, with his paper and pen.

I walk across in his favorite dress to see me in.

And he never looks my way, because the paper, his eyes stay glued to.

I try to remove them as if I've practiced.....that word that begins with "tel-uh" and ends with "nee-sus".

But Jesus, it's hard to be that man's focus.

It's so bogus how when he can only care for one thing at a time.

I mean I've made your breakfast -flap jacks, eggs, bagel with cream cheese, and some bacon. 

I know you like pork but I tell you "turkey is the healthiest".

We are too young to get bored with one another...unless you call 7 months, forever.

What happened to those days where you didn't see the music more than me.

I mean I know I spend hours painting but I always offer you to make a mess with me.

They say artists attract but it doesn't stay easy, especially when both of you have a different way of viewing things. 

Artistic differences, that's the phrase I love to use, especially when my friends think we're making some blues. 

But the yellows and purples come around when you fix my frown, I'm glad we still have those times.

Just don't use our hardships as a new song. Don't make your new record about how you eat my breakfast all the time because at the moment I could eat both yours and mine. 

Take your eyes away from things that will still be there when you leave.

Because I can't promise I'll still be. 

No no no I don't want you to think that I'm making you choose between your love and your lover.

Just remember that not every painter would pay attention to you without a paintbrush.






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